


Many Years

by Merissac



Category: Uprooted - Naomi Novik
Genre: Bickering, Embarrassment, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Magical Duel, Post-Canon, Relationship Issues, Sarkan trying Agnieszka's way of doing magic, Sarkan's POV, Sarkan's cold fingers? haha wtf!, Sarkan's past, Solya school bully, bear attacks!?!, major character death or near death experience? read to find out!, steamy make-out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 02:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16924872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merissac/pseuds/Merissac
Summary: Approximately three years after the events of the book. The reality of being a witch is hitting Agnieszka hard, especially the living for hundreds of year’s part. When a family member becomes ill, Agnieszka’s plans to remedy the problem of her too long life get kicked into high gear. However, Sarkan knows the kinds of spells and magic Agnieszka is seeking can be very dark and very dangerous, deadly even. Meanwhile, will Sarkan ever be any less of an aloof ass and finally put down roots? Reader beware you’re in for… a lot of bickering.





	1. Prologue (Sarkan)

I was dying. Of that I was painfully aware. My body immobile and bleeding out. An unnatural coldness creeping beneath my skin. A foreign invader, standing in place of where my magic should have been. But my magic was already dead. I suppose the coldness was less invader and more squatter. After all, I had willingly killed my magic, the coldness was merely filling its void, a lazy opportunist. Perhaps that was deaths nature, a thing to fill the void where life had failed. The metallic taste of that failure lingering in the corners of my mouth, but the taste was fading with the rest of my senses. 

If only I could have saved Agnieszka, at least dying wouldn’t have tasted of failure. The edges would have been sweeter. It sounds ridiculous, but I would have died with a smile upon my face if I knew she were safe. I’d give anything just to have one more moment with her, to see her eyes when I told her, I loved her. I was a fool not to have said it more. But, then again, I was a fool for a lot of things. 

The images of the past couple of days, swirling before my eyes, all in stark contrast with one another. A peaceful dream – at least as peaceful as it could be with Agnieszka around – to a terrible nightmare, in such a short span of time. Agnieszka now, old and gray, a helpless tangle of wrinkles who was fading away right along with me. But just yesterday morning. Yesterday, she was brimming with life. Safe and peaceful, next to me in our bed. 

But perhaps, that’s where we should start.


	2. Trouble at Home

The first dregs of morning sunlight woke me like a slap in the face. The curtains of my bedroom window pulled all the way open. I knew it was her doing, she said she liked to wake up to the morning sunlight. I, on the other hand, prefer to wake in a darker room, only easing into brighter light when I’m more fully awake. But, the morning sunlight had meaning for me. It meant Agnieszka was here, and for that I was glad. 

During the summer, Agnieszka spent most of her time in her cottage to cleanse the Wood and with her family in Dvernik. Of course I would visit often, even spend nights in her _cottage_? Although I would call it more tree. But it just wasn’t the same as when she was in the Tower. With her here, the whole place felt alive, and most of all, I knew she was safe. It had been over three years since our battle with the Wood Queen, but the image of Agnieszka being stuffed into that heart-tree still haunts me. That’s why when she’s here the rest of the year, to continue her training to be a proper witch – Agnieszka’s gifted but it does take seven years – I’m much more at ease. 

But let’s face it, Agnieszka and I are much more than master and apprentice, we are stupidly in love. Which still quite baffles me given our differences. After the battle with the Wood, I left her for months. I tried so hard to sever the tie she had on me, but the more I fought, the further away I pulled, the tie only tightened. When I came back, after a rather embarrassing encounter with her mother, Agnieszka pressed me and I had no choice but to admit how I truly felt.

The morning sunlight was growing brighter, my still tired eyes squinting against it. I took Agnieszka in, still in a deep sleep on the other side of the bed. She was sleeping on her side, her face turned away from mine. My only view, her long, messy pile of brown hair threating to consume my face, the sunlight illuminating all its hidden hues. My fingers itched to play through the colorful pile. I mistakenly let them.

“Ouch! Look out you loony!” She turned over abruptly to face me, kneeing me between the legs in the process. She looked up and smiled at me, while I scowled down at her.

“Someone’s extra grumpy this morning,” she said, flicking my nose as if I were a naughty pet. “Given _last night_ you would think a person would be a bit more cheerful.” 

“There won’t be any more _last nights_ if you had kicked me there any harder, you lumbering lummox.” More flirtation than insult. 

She only giggled at me, spelled herself into a robe and left the room to make breakfast. It’s a wonder that she wakes up so abruptly and with so much energy, perhaps it’s her young age. Sometimes I almost wish she were older. I lay in bed a few more moments trying to ease myself more awake; Agnieszka certainly had a way of wearing me out. 

Of course, I had to make the bed, as I always did and probably always would. I got up to start the task – although for a wizard it’s merely a simple spell – remembering the argument she gave me months before. I said nicely to her, “Don’t you think it’s a women’s duty to make the bed she sleeps in once and a while?”

“No,” she’d answered. “Why would I bother if I’m just going to sleep in it again tonight?” A perfect example of how this intolerable lunatic reasons and for the life of me I love all her crazy ways, so much so that I’m beginning to think I’m the crazy one. 

I got dressed and went down to the library to prepare a lesson for Agnieszka. The familiar scent of dry parchment and dusty books greeted my nose. An old friend. The loud noises of clanging pots and pans signaling her attempt to make breakfast. Actually, I shouldn’t tease, her cooking has much improved. Although, I’m sure she must throw a _Lirintalem_ on it from time to time. 

For these past few years I’ve been so happy, maybe too happy. I suppose I could be a bit pessimistic when things are going so smoothly, that dark thought lurking in the back of my mind that some disaster will soon knock me down again. But nevertheless, there was nothing in my life I could ask for that would make me happier. Well there was one thing, but I was willing to wait for Agnieszka as long as she needed.

Just then I heard a loud knock on the Tower door. “I’ll get it, Lord Laziness!” Agnieszka shouted, her voice floating up from the kitchen.

I was busying myself looking for a particular spell book, forgetting about the knock on the door until I heard a small sob from behind me. It was Agnieszka’s. I felt my body tense at its sound. I turned to see her in the doorway, eyes glassy and a tear stain down her left cheek.

“Sarkan, I need to leave. Mother is sick. She collapsed last night and the village doctor is going to see her soon. The messenger said, it could be serious.” 

I wanted to comfort her, but the words only caught in my throat. Instead, I silently followed her up to our bedroom where she was quickly packing a small bag. 

She seemed to be packing so much heavy clothes, as if she were going on some far away journey. I also noticed a few pieces of parchment she threw on the top before tying up the bag. It struck me as odd, being Agnieszka wasn’t the type to carry around letters or notes. To get her to write down anything was near impossible. 

I still wasn’t sure what to say to her. I couldn’t just tell her everything would be alright because I wasn’t sure that it would. We were both powerful wizards and could help people in many ways, but if someone were truly, gravely ill, I knew magic had its limits.

She had her back to me as she quickly yet clumsily tied the bag, her movements revealing her anxiety. I gently put my hands on her shoulders, doing my best to comfort her. She let out a loud sigh turning to face me and falling so heavily into my arms she knocked me back a step. She lay her head on my shoulder holding me as tightly as she could. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said softly.

“Don’t be silly, I’m coming with you,” lifting her chin so I could look her in the eye.

“Sarkan, I know you’re not that comfortable with my family, or the people of the village, or well, anybody as far as I know.” She tried to muster a weak giggle but failed. “Trust me, I can handle this.”

“I know you can,” I said, putting my hand to her cheek. “But I’m still coming with you,” turning abruptly to pack a bag of my own as she reluctantly agreed. 

I used the transportation spell I had on the Valley to get as both to Dvernik. It struck me that Agnieszka had almost seemed to _not_ want me to come with her. Usually, she practically begs me to visit her family or to go to some village festival, but seeing as she was in such an emotional state, I decided not to question her unusual behavior.

As we walked up the gravel path leading to Agnieszka’s family home, I noticed how unseasonably cold it was outside. The sharp smell of villager’s hearth fires carrying well in the crisp air. The thick blanket of clouds lying overhead, threatening us with their despair. It was so early into autumn that the leaves had barely begun to fall off the trees, yet if it weren’t for their telling greenery, one would be sure winter was knocking. 

The home stood at the end of a lane on a small hill. It was neither the biggest nor the smallest home in the village, but from the handful of times I visited, it had always seemed the most welcoming.

As the home came into view however, I immediately noticed its lack of welcoming. The usual smell of food cooking was absent. The curtains drawn, and the doctors’ wagon parked near the entry made for a much grimmer scene that usual. 

Agnieszka quickened her pace to practically a run, dragging me along until we made it to the door. I almost tripped over the low step to the entryway with all her dragging! Once we were inside, she gave a quick greeting to her father and brother before going up to her mother’s room, where the doctor was just beginning his examination. 

The men greeted me, “My Lord,” said her father with a slight bow, in the usual formal, cold way he was with me. “Dragon,” said the youngest of the brothers, with a slight hint of disgust. I honestly couldn’t blame him. If a sister of mine were living with an older man, unmarried, I too would be a bit ruffled as well. Her family knowing the nature of our relationship for quite some time now. 

I’ll never forget the day I came back to the Valley after leaving Agnieszka for so long. I nearly fell through the floor when she dragged me over to her mother, giving her a far too detailed account of our relationship! I half expected her to draw her mother a vivid painting! 

We all waited in the sitting room in awkward silence for the better part of an hour, when Agnieszka and the doctor finally came downstairs. The doctor explained to us that Agnieszka’s mother had an illness that would progress slowly, but unfortunately could not be cured. He went into detail about there being a possibility of a mass growing deep within her body. I was about to speak when the doctor cut me off to assure me that the cause was not magical in nature and I would not be of any help. _Pompous fool._

When the doctor left, I could see the family was visibly upset so I started to leave the room to give them their privacy but Agnieszka caught me by the arm. “Mother wishes to see you.” Eyes still teary, she pointed me to the stairs. 

Surprisingly, her mother actually seemed to like me. Although I didn’t visit often, over the years I had always managed to have good interactions with her. She was always warm and welcoming. 

“Sarkan!” she was sitting up in bed with her arms stretched wide for an embrace. “I must be in terrible shape for _you_ to have left the Tower.” 

She didn’t look at all sick, it was almost difficult to believe the doctor had seen the same woman. After I disentangled myself from her, I was about to call her by her name but she stopped me. 

“Last time you were here I told you to call me Mother.”

“I just felt it wasn’t right being Agnieszka and I are not married yet,” I answered, gingerly perching myself at the end of her bed.

“I had figured she turned you down again when she didn’t write me.” 

I let out a frustrated grunt. 

“Don’t worry,” she said patting my shoulder, “we both know Agnieszka is a special kind of girl.” _That’s certainly a nice way of putting it._ “She does things in a different way from most girls, at her own pace, but she defiantly wants to marry you.” 

“She had said she wanted to, but she just wasn’t ready yet. She wouldn’t commit to setting a date. I think her brothers are getting a bit disgusted with me.”

“They just can’t see Agnieszka as anything but their perfect little sister,” _‘perfect’ seemed a dubious word to use given her propensity for disaster,_ “and want to still think of you as the big, bad Dragon, taking the village girls away.” 

I was about to try to explain myself but she interrupted me. “Don’t waste your breath; Agnieszka explained all that a long time ago.” 

I felt a sudden flush of embarrassment thinking about all the things Agnieszka probably tells her mother about me. 

“Don’t worry,” seeing the embarrassment written on my face, “I believe you didn’t lay a hand on any of those other girls. And frankly dearie, you really don’t look type.”

I stared at her wide eyed and blushing. It took everything in me not to transport myself back to the Tower at that very moment. Trying desperately to change the subject, “How can you be so sure Agnieszka wants to marry me? I’m starting to think she just doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

“A mother just knows. Every time she hears your name she absolutely glows!” In spite of myself, I couldn’t help grinning like an idiot. We fell into silence a moment.

“You still look too skinny! Hasn’t Agnieszka learned to cook yet? I swear Sarkan, I tried my hardest to teach her to cook and be a proper lady, but you know her.”

“Actually–,” 

“You’ll stay for dinner then,” more command than question. “I need to get out of this blasted bed. I’ll prepare a fest.” She leapt out of bed and made for her slippers.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. You need your rest, you’re very sick–.” 

“Listen hear, that doctor is one egg short of the dozen. I feel fine now,” waving me off.

“That may be so, but I think it best if you remained in bed today.”

Much like Agnieszka, her mother would clearly not listen to reason. I gave her a withering look as she made for the door.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t talk to you like one of the kids. I keep forgetting because you look no older than my own boys. God knows you’re much wiser than I, but I know my own body and I will be just fine,” she said patting me on the back and leaving the room.

Secretly, I almost liked the way Agnieszka’s mother talked to me, the pats on the back, the kind, reassuring words, even the embarrassing words! For a second I wondered what it would be like to have a mother, and I would imagine it something like this. I knew it was a silly thought at my age. Even if I had had a mother growing up, she would be long gone by now. How foolish I am to desire such fleeting things. Agnieszka and her family certainly have a talent for stirring feelings in me that are rather, _inconvenient._

After the feast that evening – and it was certainly a feast fit for a holiday – the men remained at the table, while the women were in the kitchen cleaning off the plates. Actually, Agnieszka spelled most of the plates clean in mere seconds and I’m certain they were just back there gossiping. 

Agnieszka’s other two brothers came for dinner, the eldest with his family. They all tried to stop their mother from cooking so much food, urging her not to overexert herself but she’d have none of it. 

Agnieszka’s father had left the table to go outside with the eldest brothers’ child and to my displeasure I was left alone with the three brothers, at the ravaged remains of the dining table. 

“So Dragon, when can I expect my invitation to you and Agnieszka’s wedding?” asked the youngest, boldest brother, lazily swirling the last dregs of wine in his glass.

“I understand the situation is a bit improper, but Agnieszka feels it best to wait before setting a date.”

“Perhaps when the weather gets warmer then,” commented the middle brother with a hint of resentment.

“Yes, perhaps,” I answered, feeling very uncomfortable. 

“It’s quite odd,” mused the youngest brother, “most women seem in such a hurry to rush to the altar. Maybe Agnieszka is afraid to say no?” 

“Trust me when I say, you’re sister isn’t afraid of anything, certainly not me.” My blood was beginning to boil, wanting desperately to change the subject. I could tell her brothers were also a bit emboldened from drink and the heavy meal. 

“Yes, you got me there Dragon; she certainly isn’t afraid of anything.”

“I know what the problem is,” entered the eldest brother, picking at a stubborn walnut from the bowl on the table, “women need some sort of grand romantic gesture when a man proposes. Perhaps you must be more romantic.” 

“Maybe he’s forgotten how to be romantic,” added the youngest brother. “Look at it this way, you essentially locked yourself up in a tower for a hundred years with women you never got romantic with,” he put his fingers up in mock quotation marks while the middle brother snickered, “so now you must be quite rusty when I comes to pleasing women.” 

I was absolutely enraged by their rude comments, nobody in the entire Valley had ever spoke to me this way. I stood up, the candles in the room flaring up a degree, shadows deepening. “I HAVE NO PROBLEM PLEASING WOMEN!” I shouted, pointing my finger in the youngest ones face, thankful that both her parents were out of earshot. _I hope._ The three brothers shrank further into their chairs. 

Just then, I saw Agnieszka and her mother appear in the doorway. My face hot with embarrassment. I suppose I’m from a more modest time, but I don’t think it’s ever appropriate to shout about, ‘pleasing women’ in your fiancée’s family home. Agnieszka’s gaze leveled on my hand, still pointing at her brother and she began laughing like a mad hyena. 

“Bunch of buffoons,” I grumbled as I left the room, hearing the brothers’ chuckles echo through the halls. 

Feeling more than a bit embarrassed and offended, I looked for a quiet place in the house to retreat and found the small study behind the stairs empty. The room just big enough for the desk, the low chair and the narrow bookshelf inside. I cringed at the lack of books on the shelf, already longing to be back in my own library. On the bottom rung of the shelf, I saw some small boxes with Agnieszka’s and her brothers’ names on each of them. 

Curiosity getting the better of me, I opened the one labeled, ‘Agnieszka’. The box contained old childhood drawings of hers. I thumbed through despite myself, taking in the crude colorful images of Agnieszka and her family, her and Kasia playing in the woods, all sorts of wild flowers, her climbing a tree. Then I came across a strangely familiar image. My Tower. 

It was terribly foreboding in Agnieszka’s version, sitting under a dark sky. Lightning striking it. She had even drawn little wisps of mist swirling around it, reminding me of the sentinels I used to watch the Wood. The worst part of the drawing however, was the little cage at the base which contained a stick figure of a blond girl, who of course was Kasia.

The drawing suddenly giving me a sickening feeling, I turned to the next one hoping to see another flower or something, but what was on the next page was even more unsettling. 

It was Agnieszka and Kasia arm in arm, smiling. Agnieszka holding up a sword like some hero from a song, with the severed head of a dragon on the end, a real dragon, but of course I knew what she meant. 

I shut the box up quickly, shoving it back in its place, remembering why I came in the study in the first place. I took up some parchment and a quill to write to the Willow, imploring her to examine Agnieszka’s mother as soon as possible. 

After much protest and denial that she was ill, during dinner her mother finally agreed to let me ask the Willow to examine her. Now I see where Nieszka gets all her infuriatingly stubborn ways! After all, the Willow was the foremost healer in Polnya. If anyone could help Agnieszka’s mother it was her. 

I was nearly finished with my letter when I felt the soothing tingle of Agnieszka’s magic. I hadn’t seen her enter the room but a moment later I felt her hand as she began gently rubbing my back. Its slow, feather light rhythm sending a rather embarrassing shiver through me. The corner of her smile curved up in satisfaction. I was still in awe of just how easily she could take me appart. 

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” I said, my eyes still on the letter, fighting for focus. 

“But you felt me.” 

I looked up at her, shocked.

“Your shoulders stiffen up before you see me. I feel it too you know, when you’re close,” she explained. All of the evenings previous tension and embarrassment leaching out of me at her touch. 

“The connection only seems to be growing stronger. Most of the time you don’t even have to be in the same room for me to feel you, just nearby. What do I feel like?” I mused.

“Warm and soft, like a comfortable blanket. Don’t listen to my brothers, they just like to tease you,” she said, settling into my lap, her back to me. Her hair was so close to my face I couldn’t help running my fingers through. Greedily, I soon felt myself wanting _more_ of her. A nagging ache. I tried desperately to be more in control of myself when Agnieszka was so close, but it was always a losing battle. “You please me just fine,” she whispered in my ear.

“Then what was all your hysterical laughing about?” narrowing my eyes at her, moving my face away. 

She took my hand in hers, gently stroking my wrist with her thumb, moving up my fingertips. “They’re quite pleasing,” she added. I couldn’t help the smirk on my face understanding her laughter. A warmth spreading through me at her touch. The aches nagging growing louder. Unavoidable. 

The ache easily won the argument over control, and I let my face fall into the pile of hair lying in the crook of her neck. I wanted to breathe her in. My breath exhaling sharply, causing a breeze through the forest of her locks. She trembled slightly when my thumb brushed up against her collar bone as I went to move her tangled forest of hair aside. I couldn’t stop my lips from gently exploring her neck, I felt the beat of her pulse quicken under them. A scarcely audible sigh escaped her lips as her back arched with pleasure under my chest. I wrapped my arm snuggly around her waist, pulling her tightly against me. 

_She’s impossible! Why does she always do this to me?_ Of course I had a few theories, but my brain was in no condition to function at the moment. The battle was over, and I was glad I lost. My own dignity be damned!

Reflexively, my magic entwined itself around hers. I could hardly stop it anymore. It was automatic, and it scared me to death. Our magic, like two strong hands coming together, tightly and intimately interlacing fingers. The raw power of the connection between us making my face flush. I reached for her hand to steady its flow but it was too late, we were already swept away on its current and flung too far from shore. She held on tightly letting out a soft groan then turned around to face me, still in my lap now straddling my hips. Our eyes locked for a moment, and my mouth soon found hers. The electric jolt of her lips on mine moved in a shock wave down my body. After so many years, she still drove me as crazy as the first time I kissed her. 

My heart began to race as her hands moved across my back, pulling me in as close as possible. Our closeness, the perfect fit, as if my body hadn’t been whole without her against it. 

My hands traced a line down her curves, stopping to hold tightly to her hips as I tried to match her movements. Her rhythm left me gasping. Her lips traveled down the contour of my jaw then slowly moved lower to dance across my neck. Her dance, so delicate and gentle, almost teasing. It only made my desire for her grow. The ache going from nagging to shouting. I wanted to beg for more, but at the same time I wanted her to stop because I couldn’t. 

I shuddered at the sudden warmth of her breath against my ear as she whispered the spell that loosened all the buttons and clasps of my clothing, the soft glow of her magic moving over my body. 

With a gentle touch of my fingers to her chin, I guided her face away from my neck and back up to my lips, wanting to devour her. I wanted my kiss slow and seductive but it quickly became deep and frantic. My mouth taking a quick detour through her cleavage, earning me a deep sigh that caused her hand to grab the hair on the back of my head a degree tighter. I winced at the sensation to look up at her thoroughly pinked face. She saw me looking and gave me a little grin, moving her hips to earn her own groan from me. The devastating moves she made against me, causing the ache to build somewhere… _lower._

Her hand played through the opening of my shirt; the coolness of her fingertips raising goosebumps across my skin. While my hand instinctively moved up her thigh and under her dress. I hadn’t even touched her yet and I already felt her tremble beneath me. 

Just then I heard the sound of muffled voices from some other part of the house. Shocked, remembering where I was, I jumped up, Agnieszka still in tow and still kissing me. I abruptly deposited her back down to the chair. She landed heavily with a huff, while I quickly buttoned myself back up. All the heat of the moment dissolving into shame and embarrassment. 

“What are you trying to do to me, you impossible creature,” half whisper, half shout. 

“I closed the door. We have privacy.”

“That door has no lock,” hands on my hips, examining it, still breathing heavily.

“Magic,” she said, slapping her hand to her forehead as if to call me an idiot.

“Oh, right. But for heaven’s sake Agnieszka, do you know no decency? I can look out the window and see your father and little nephew playing outside. I can still hear your tipsy brothers making crude jokes about me a room away!”

“Sarkan, do you ever cease to be such a prickly old prude,” on her toes, planting a kiss on my forehead, (Okay, so she wasn’t on her toes! It’s not my fault the girl is the smallest in a family of giants! I’m actually quite of normal height for a man.) then teasingly making for the door, a fraction of the moments previous heat returning.

I grabbed her by the wrists, pinning her to the door before she could open it. My face inches from hers, the flush still in her cheeks. I fell into studying all the different shades of brown that swirled in her eyes. What an idiot I have become for her. DAMN IT, I wanted to kiss her again! 

I never was a lustful man – actually I’ve always thought myself quite the opposite considering my life of solitude – but she wrought my every nerve. “Come back to the Tower with me, for the evening,” my voice rough and breathless. 

“Actually,” she said retreating from me, “I really just came to say good-bye.”

I felt my body tense up at the word. “What? Why?”

“I want to say here for a few days just to make sure my mother’s getting on alright and I want you to go back to the Tower and await word from the Willow.”

I almost left, I almost began the spell to transport myself back. Almost. Then I realized this was her second attempt to be rid of me. It was so unlike her not to relish every moment I was in her precious village or with her family, it just didn’t make sense. My heart sank at the thought, maybe she really didn’t want to marry me? Maybe she had grown tired of me or being she was still so young, maybe she wanted the experience of being with someone else? In a way I wanted to give her whatever she wanted, but the thought of her with anyone else sickened me. 

I knew I should have stopped this when I still had the chance. I knew the feelings I had for her were too strong, dangerous even. Now she could destroy me. A blatant reminder of why I never wanted to form personal relationships with the people of the Valley or the girls I took. People get old. They get sick. They die. Women leave. Why should I inflict hundreds of years’ worth of heartbreak on myself?

“Why do you want me so desperately out of your house, and don’t lie to me because I know you’re hiding something.” 

“What’s wrong with you? You’re acting crazy!” 

She wouldn’t look me in the eye. I was certain she was hiding something and I would pry it out of her if it was the last thing I did. My mind went to all those clothes and the letters in her bag. I grabbed her by the arm and went to pull her up the stairs to her old bedroom, where I knew she had deposited her bag. 

As we passed the dining room, her youngest brother saw us both leave the cramped study, Agnieszka looking even more disheveled than usual and the top buttons of my shirt still open. He had the nerve to make some undignified comment about me being _fast._

Of course I’m acting crazy, these people are driving me to it! I’m being driven crazy in every way a man can be driven crazy; with embarrassment, with anger, with lust! I’m a mad man just to put up with all this. 

I saw Agnieszka’s lips curl into a little smirk at her brothers comment, a strand of her disheveled hair stuck to the… _moist_ corner of her lip. DAMN MYSELF TO HELL, I still wanted to kiss her even though I was furious! And let it be known, I’m not the one who’s fast in that… _department._ Nieszka has always been the one who lacked patience! 

“Have you completely lost it?” she protested when we reached the top of the stairs.

I dragged her in the room and shut the door behind us. I saw the bag on the floor next to the bed and went straight for it, turning it over and emptying its contents onto the bed. 

“What do you think you’re doing!” she shouted. 

“Tell me something Agnieszka, why did you pack all these heavy clothes if you were only going to take care of your mother for a few days? Couldn’t you just _Vanastalem_ most of this anyway?”

“If you hadn’t noticed it’s unusually cool outside, and there are particular clothes that that spell just won’t produce.” _Since when is she so particular about what she wears?_

“So do you plan on taking your sick mother on a hike? And what are all these letters about?” I took one of the letters and was about to read it but she promptly grabbed it out of my hand, although not before I saw it was from Solya. 

“Those are my private letters and I do not wish you to read them.”

“Give them to me, NOW!”

“No. You’re not my husband yet, I have no obligation to give in to your demands.”

“So that’s what this is about, you don’t want to marry me do you?”

“Of course I do, just not right–.”

“Looks like you had some nice long conversations with Solya, planning a little romantic trip with him once I’m out of the way?” My hands burnt with anger at the thought.

“Eww, I hope you’re kidding,” she said with a cringe. 

“I’m starting to think you don’t even want a husband, you’d rather be some loose, wild woman of the Wood. Your appearance would certainly suit it!” 

“This has nothing to do with you! It’s about _my_ mother, _my_ family,” she was suddenly and uncharacteristically looking serious. A crease forming between her brows that I hadn’t noticed before. 

“Just tell me what’s going on Agnieszka. Please,” lowering my voice so she would talk to me.

She let out a long conceding sigh. “Remember last year, when I asked you if there were a spell I could use to donate my years to another?”

“Yes. And I told you there was no such spell, and if there were it would be very dark magic and probably not work the way you intend, no matter how good your intentions.” 

“Well I ignored your warning and continued my search. A few weeks ago, Solya found records in the Charovnikov of a witch who was banished for preforming a similar spell. He also found where she currently lives and it’s only a day’s journey outside the Valley on the western side of the mountains. She lives in a town called Peaceful Pass and she agreed to visit with me this week to discuss the nature of that particular spell.”

“So you were planning to sneak off _alone_ to see a witch, who most certainly is dark and defiantly dangerous, without breathing a word of it to me. HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND? I’ve nearly lost you more times than I could count and I won’t do it again! The wolves. The Wood. The arrow. The heart-tree. That... that dancing bear in Kralia.”

“The bear hardly counts.”

“The bear always counts, you infuriatingly foolish girl,” throwing my hands up.

“I knew this is how you would react, which is exactly why I didn’t say anything,” crossing her arms in front of her chest resolutely.

“You may think you have many years ahead of you but you’re not immortal. Dark witches and wizards don’t just reveal their secrets for free, you are obviously falling right into a trap.” 

“I don’t care, I still need my mother,” her eyes fighting tears.

“Giving away your years won’t give you the wisdom you so clearly lack!” I shouted in frustration. 

“I knew you wouldn’t understand because you never had a mother to worry about or a family to take care of,” her voice low and cutting. 

I turned away from her and went towards the window to hide the sting of her words. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said–.”

“No, you’re right, I don’t,” turning back abruptly to face her, my anger at its peak. “But I will have your word that you will not leave this house without me. I may not be your husband but I am still your lord and you and everyone else in this Valley are obligated to meet my demands! We will discuss this further tomorrow morning.”

She only mustered a low, “Fine, Dragon,” as I left the room to cool down, but I could tell she was still determined. She knew I hated it when she called me Dragon, but of course she only did it because I threw the whole lord thing in her face. Dragon—what she called me before she truly knew me, what she called me when she probably loathed me.

I left the house – skillfully dodging the three brothers, to send my letter to the Willow. I could have easily transported myself to the post office box but I needed a breath of cool air and exercise to clear my head. 

The night was unusually cold and windy and by the time I returned late into the evening, my fingers were so numb I regretted the walk. (Heaven forbid, I should lose a finger given my… _talents._ ) Upon entering I mumbled a warming spell and noticed her brothers had left. Agnieszka’s mother was in the sitting room with a cup of tea, knitting something, which she hid from me as soon as I came in. It was always awkward but I had to ask. 

“You can go on up and stay in Nieszka’s room, you don’t have to ask anymore,” she said as if reading my mind. “You know I consider you part of the family, don’t you?”

“Well, I just thought–.”

“It will be official soon enough, trust me,” she waved me off.

As I went back upstairs I couldn’t understand her mother’s warmth towards me. All Agnieszka’s life she must have worried I would take her. And I did. The woman should despise me, not think of me as her family. 

When I entered the room Agnieszka was already fast asleep, which I didn’t mind because I was in no mood to argue with her again. I settled in on the other side of the bed as quietly as I could so as not to disturb her. Luckily, she didn’t stir and I fell asleep rather quickly. 

During the night however, my sleep was anything but peaceful. The nightmares I had thought were long gone, returned. They were more feeling and sound than actual images. Over and over again I heard the noise of her struggling for breath when the arrow had hit her, the choked cry she made when the heart-tree swallowed her up, the feeling of her magic fading away. 

I got up in a cold sweat, my mouth dryer than a piece of parchment and instinctively reached for Agnieszka but my hand came up empty. Shocked, I sat up. She was neither in the bed nor anywhere in the room. 

The room was dark but I could just make out its emptiness by the first glow of morning light, when I noticed her bag was missing. I heard the soft clink of the front door opening and jumped out of bed. I ran out of the room nearly tumbling down the stairs. I retched the front door back open before it even had a chance to fully close and saw Agnieszka’s body already half way through _my_ transportation spell. 

Without thinking, I sprang towards her like a desperate maniac, managing to grab her by the ankle before the spell closed. And when the world opened around us again, I fell squarely on my face in what seemed to be the muddiest patch of earth in all the Valley. 

I stood up with a frustrated grunt. I heard Agnieszka chuckle and the sound of children giggling further off. I could scarcely see, the mud so thick on my face. She mercifully muttered a cleaning spell, dissolving most of the mess. Sight back, I recognized the front of the inn that lies on the very edge of the Valleys western border. 

It was an old, wooden, two storied building, already beginning to hum with morning activity. Weary travelers up and packing their supplies into wagons and animals being fed and watered for the day’s journey ahead. The sun started to peak across the sky, last night’s cold bitter air however had not yet retreated making me painfully aware I was standing in all this commotion still in my bare feet and loose night shirt. “My lord,” greeted a passerby with a slight snicker. 

“I HAD YOUR WORD,” I shouted, spelling myself into proper attire. I grabbed her by the arm pulling her further away from the entrance, not wanting to create more of a scene. She was wearing my old leather coat, the long one with the singed sleeves and the scorch marks on the back. The one I thought I had long gotten rid of. For a second I thought it was cute that she had kept it and was wearing it. But only for a second. 

“OF ALL THE IDIOTIC, SENSELESS, PEA BRAINED, FOOLISH, STUPID THINGS YOU’VE DONE; THIS ONE TAKES THE CAKE FOR THE MOST RECKLESS LUNACY!”

“Have you tired yourself out raging at me yet?” she asked flippantly. 

“No,” I said, rounding on her. “Why did you leave when I clearly said that we would discuss it further in the morning?”

“Because I knew you would try and talk me out of it.”

“Of course I would,” scowling at her. “Listen,” I said, trying to unclench my teeth. “I appreciate that you care for your mother, but your heart is too big for your own good. Your love is blinding you from seeing that you are falling into an obvious trap and I forbid you from risking your life. I’m sure your mother would not want you to put yourself in such a dangerous situation either. And don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten the disastrous effects Marek brought on himself and an entire army from his blind devotion to his mother.” 

“So what am I supposed to do, sit by while I live on for maybe four hundred years and my mother with her illness will be lucky to have another four? Watch my father and brothers fall away, my little nephew living a life time while I barley look a day older,” her eyes glassy and threatening tears. “And every year of my long, long life I’ll torment myself wondering if I could have given my mother more time, if I could have done something for any of them that mattered!”

“You don’t understand,” I said walking her over to a bench by the inns stable, smelling the animals and praying I had _only_ fallen in mud. “The kind of magic this witch is offering is pure darkness, a spell like that goes against life and nature and all things sacred.”

“Excuse me,” she cut in. “This from a man who had no qualms raising in army of the dead, who scoffs at a priest for blessing him!”

“Well you’re right, I have no patience for silly rituals and a body without a soul in it any longer is of no consequence to me if can suit a helpful purpose. But you must understand, when a wizard believes his magic to be above life, God, nature, whatever you wish to call it. That wizard becomes something even worse than the corruption in the Wood.”

“Look at it this way, Sarkan. What if it were me and I were sick, and you had even just the smallest, unlikely chance to save me, wouldn’t you take it even if it were dangerous?” biting her lip.

I opened my mouth to protest but of course I couldn’t. I looked over at her, the glow of victory already spreading across her face. I let my face fall into my hands hiding my defeat, muttering more insults her way. 

“Fine!” looking her in the eye. “If it will satisfy your curiosity I will show you that you’re on a fool’s errand at best. I will escort you there and you will not be out of my sight even for a moment! You will not meet with this witch alone, I will be present and in the same room with you when you meet with her. Is that understood?”


	3. The Journey

Moments later I found myself on the back of a large white mare, Agnieszka at the reins. I felt silly but she insisted on driving, she said this was her journey and she had completely studied Solya’s directions to Peaceful Pass. I was still angry at her for trying to leave without me and humiliated sitting on back of the horse like some lost maiden. By the time we exited town, I was so tense I think she felt it. 

“A peace offering for the grumpy old lady on the back of the horse,” she said, handing me a perfect rose illusion. 

“Thank you Agnieszka, but we really must be conservative with our magic.” 

“Throw it in the air.” I hesitated a moment. “Go on, it won’t bite,” she urged. Of course it would, everything that girl did bit into me in one way or another. 

When I threw the rose it exploded into dozens of shimmering points of light, like twinkling stars filling a clear night sky. Slowly, the twinkling lights began to come together forming a new illusion. A long, thorny rose vine grew right in front of me, with a smaller rose attached to the end. The vine twisted and curled itself to form the words, _‘I’m sorry, Sarkan’_. After a moment dozens of flowers bloomed from the vine; red roses, yellow tulips, purple morning glories, most I couldn’t name but every color of the rainbow was represented. The flowers moved together forming lines and shapes. It took me a moment to realize they had formed the words, _‘I love you’_. 

As the illusion melted away, so did the tension between us. I let out a long tired breath, wrapping my arms snuggly around her waist. “I love you too,” I whispered in her ear. The only way I have ever used the word was whispered in her ear, my private confession to her. She leaned closer to me, so I rested my chin on her shoulder for a while. 

We were only less than a mile outside of town but the busy road had already given way to a lonely country side. The road was surrounded on either side by a field of tall grass, broken only by large gray boulders that were scattered here and there. The mountains out ahead of us shining bright gray, the mid-morning sun illuminating all their hidden cracks and crevices. 

I found myself thinking about what Agnieszka said when we had tried to rent two horses from the inn but there was only one left. When I was bitter about it she blamed me for wasting too much time arguing, she said I always waste time arguing when I always end up giving in to her anyway. I disagreed with her at once, but now that I’m sitting on the back of a slow horse with nothing to do but think, I see she was right. I can’t remember even once denying her anything, no matter how absurd.

“You’ve completely ruined me,” I said, thinking out loud. She let out a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh and continued looking at Solya’s directions. We had come to a fork in the road close to the base of the mountains where the tall grass had thinned and the soil had become rockier. One road branched long and winding alongside the mountains, the other, steep and narrow straight through. She bit down on her lip and groaned, of course we were taking the steep, narrow one. 

“No chance of the quickening spell I guess?”

“Of course not! When the horse loses her footing and we all go flying off the side of a mountain to our deaths that would certainly render this journey pointless,” I said in a huff. She only laughed. 

The pace was painfully slow, the road more treacherous than I even imagined. I had the feeling that the road had scarcely been used in years. It was uneven and the dirt had eroded away so much in some places, making it so narrow our horse barley had a few inches of purchase and had to cling to the wall of the mountain just to move forward. 

In one such area I care to forget, to our left the mountain was a sheer wall and to our right a sheer drop with only inches on the path to spare for error. I broke out in a cold sweat as Agnieszka mumbled a spell to keep the earth firm, while I whispered a spell to keep the horse calm and steady. It was only for a few hundred feet or so, but I think we both held our breath the whole way. When the road finally widened again, we each let out loud sighs of relief. I hadn’t realized how tightly I was holding on to Agnieszka. When my body shuddered in relief she felt it too and began chanting like a child, _‘Sarkan’s afraid of heights,’_ ten times over. Annoying, little monster of girl!

It was mid-afternoon by the time we made it over the peak. To our relief, the road looked much wider on the way down. We came to a small pool in an outcropping of some rocks and decided to water our horse and have something to eat. Agnieszka pulled a loaf of bread and some dried meat out of her bag and sat down on a dusty boulder. 

“Do you ever cease being a dirty peasant girl? Stand aside,” I commanded her, spelling the boulder into a table and chairs. “Sometimes I think you forget you’re a witch.”

“I thought you said we were being conservative with our magic so we could _‘keep our strength for the dangers that surely lie ahead’,_ ” she said rolling her eyes, quoting my own words to her when we first got on the horse.

“I refuse to eat in the dirt like an animal. Now hand over those letters, I want to see what we’re up against.” 

She obliged and I read them between bites of dry bread and un-chewable meat. “The Bone,” I said raising an eyebrow. “Well her name’s frighteningly foreboding.”

“And the Dragon isn’t?” she sorted. 

I pursed my lips and shrugged my shoulders in response. “Wait a minute that name does sound familiar but if I’m thinking of the same witch she would have to be over five hundred years old! That age is impossible even for a witch. Something doesn’t smell right. And look here,” I said pointing at the letter, “she tells you she can take away whatever number of desired years but she never mentions putting them on another person.” 

“And,” she said impatiently.

“And all this is… it’s just a more precise killing curse! I do not want to argue with you again but I’m certain you are being lured into a trap.” I folded up the papers and handed them hastily back to her.

“Why should anyone want to harm me for no reason?” 

“You can’t be this stupid! You need to wake up and realize you’re not just some pig farmers’ daughter anymore.”

“Woodcutter!” she broke in.

“You are the most powerful witch in the nation. Don’t you realize that the Wood isn’t the only thing that wants to harm you? There are a dozen different dark forces out there that would love to use you for their own purposes. But, if you insist, let’s continue this march towards our doom.” 

In an instant she was already on the horse, making sure she was at the reins. With a groan I got on the back and we continued down the mountain. The wider road made for a much less terrifying journey but we still had to keep a very slow pace because it was rather steep. According to Solya’s directions, Peaceful Pass was at the base of the mountain, but I knew at our pace we would be lucky to make it there before sunset.

I watched the sun sink lower and lower across the clear, late afternoon sky, the shadows beginning to lengthen and a cool wind picking up, causing Agnieszka’s hair to whip me in the face every so often. My boredom at its peak, I sunk to biting at my nails while she hummed some irritating pop song. 

“Ugh– if only I had a book,” I complained.

“You and your books! Can’t you just enjoy the scenery?” 

“No. I hate scenery and I hate travel.”

“Is there anything you do like?” she asked.

“You,” I bit out. I hadn’t meant to say it in such a disgusted tone, but between the boredom, the scenery, the steady sound of the horse hooves and staring at the back of Agnieszka’s head for God knows how many hours, I felt like I was in a trance to say just whatever popped into my mind. 

“You say it like it’s a curse. Although I guess you would, being you think of me as such a helpless idiot.” She hung her head looking sullen. I guess we both couldn’t help saying what was on our minds. 

“Nieszka,” I said stroking the back of her arm. “I don’t mean to always rage at you, but you’re just . . . _young._ You trust too easily. You think you’re invincible. I was certainly no better at your age. I’m proud of you. The Wood is nearly cleansed; you’ve done something that I couldn’t for over a hundred years of trying! You’ve done spells I didn’t think possible. You’re brilliant! You just need guidance.”

“There, was that so hard, to be nice, to give me a compliment once and a while.”

“Is that why you’re not in a hurry to marry me?” I grumbled, getting annoyed having to hold a conversation talking to the back of her head.

She sighed. “No. I know that’s just you’re way. You’re kind of cute when you get all mad and cranky.”

“Well, what is it then?” I asked.

“It’s more about me than you.” She paused for a moment.

“Well, go on,” I urged her.

“Remember those first few months after you choose me and took me to your Tower.”

“Yes.” I frowned thinking about how cold and cruel I was to her then. I was so bent on doing anything I could to take the Woods power, I cared little if one girl was frightened or lonely in the process. 

“I was so desperate to get out. I was so lonely and angry. I’m…I’m just afraid I’ll feel trapped again,” she admitted. 

I swallowed hard, the images of Agnieszka’s old childhood drawings still vivid in my mind, the sick feeling they gave me creeping back in. 

“That isn’t your fault,” I confessed. “That’s not a fear that was born into you. I put it there. I planted its seed, no better than the Wood planting seeds of corruption.” 

Instinctively, I think I already knew of her secret fear. The true reason why she kept to her cottage during the summer months. It’s true that she was doing the most important work of cleansing the Wood, I would even help her when she came upon corruption that was particularly difficult. The cottage was a very convenient out post, but I knew that she could have easily spelled herself back to the Tower whenever she was done for the day. But she didn’t. Out of that fear of being trapped and powerless grew a need in her to feel independent and powerful. She wasn’t only cleansing the Wood out in her cottage, she was cleansing herself. 

“I understand your fear,” I said after she finished protesting that I was nothing like the Wood. “I understand why you want to stay in your cottage, why you love being so independent. All I can do is promise that if we get married none of that will change. If you need to be away from the Tower . . . or from me,” my voice cracked as said it, “I won’t stop you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, I don’t want to be away from you. I just need to . . . take the lead sometimes, feel I have my own space that I control. Maybe you would like to come live with me in the cottage during the summer?”

I didn’t know how I felt about living in a tree for a quarter of the year but my lips moved on their own accord. “Of course I would.”

“Well it’s settled then, and it would be better for you too.”

“Better how?” I scoffed. “To have dirt under my nails, and birds nesting in my hair.” 

“Birds don’t nest in my hair!” she protested.

“Well if I were a bird I certainly would.” I grabbed greedily at her hair and then with a flick of my wrist spelled it into a nest shape on top of her head. I couldn’t help chuckling at her.

“Hey!” she protested, pulling her hair loose again. “If you want to be a bird so badly,” whispering a spell. 

Suddenly, bright white, fluffy feathers sprouted out of my clothes, even my boots! I looked like a monster with a body of a giant chicken and the head of a man. “I thought I said to be conservative with your magic.”

“You started it,” she countered. Damn her, she was right, spelling myself back into my normal attire.

“What I meant was,” she continued, “it would be better for you to stay with me in the cottage so you don’t have to worry so much.”

“What gave you the idea that I’m such a worry wart,” I snorted.

“Sarkan,” she turned back to me with kind of pitying look on her face. “I used to hear you in your sleep, even now sometimes. I know you’re afraid of losing me.”

“Well I… I,” I fumbled with my words for a moment. “Don’t you have that same fear for me or your family?” I bit out.

“Yes of course I do, I just think because I’m used to it, I can deal with it better. I’ve been lucky enough to be surrounded by the people I love all my life, so I know what it is to fear losing someone you love. You on the other hand, never truly had that, so the fear is new and more powerful for you. I think that’s why you like to wall yourself up in the Tower so much, why you don’t like to go to festivals or get too close with my family. You’re afraid you might care about someone then you’ll have to worry about them too, like you do me. That’s why you speak of our relationship like it’s a curse, say, _‘I ruined you.’_ You’re used to only caring about yourself.”

“I didn’t come all the way out here to be sat on the back of a horse and psychoanalyzed you silly girl!” I burst out. “This is why I hate travel, there’s nothing to do but stare at the back of your tiresome head and talk nonsense!” 

She let out a long breath, stopped the horse and then turned to face me. “Can’t you just take the walls down for a second and be happy I know you so well. You don’t have to be embarrassed, I understand completely.” She was griping my hand tightly. I squeezed her hand back and gave her a grunt in agreement.

“Alright, now quit staring at me and let’s get on with it.” Unexpectedly, she cupped my face in her hands and kissed me. Soothing and genuine. 

“I hope you’re not trying to start something out in the open like this,” I teased. “You certainly won’t see me rolling around in the dirt with you, like a teenager with too many hormones.”

She let out a high laugh and we continued down the mountain. 

The scrubby wind-blown trees and steep rocky path of the mountain finally gave way to a dense forest of ancient twisted oaks and tall maples. The orange glow of the setting sun interlaced in their branches. Between the branches the small patches of sky took on a purple hue. We were nearly at the base of the mountain and would soon reach Peaceful Pass. 

The wind blew cool and harsh, causing a shower of autumn leaves to rain down upon us. The only sound aside from wind and leaves was the lonely hoot of a single owl. The path itself was thickly covered with leaves, but not just the freshly fallen ones, old ones from autumns past. Something about this forest made me uneasy, I suppose it reminded me vaguely of the Wood. Sad and lonely. 

The path was so unused and the sounds so quiet, it didn’t seem we should be anywhere near a small town. However, as we went further along, the forest seemed to thin and we finally made it to an old wooden sign, _‘Welcome to Peaceful Pass’_ , it read, in carved weathered lettering.


	4. The Bone

As Agnieszka was busying herself with Solya’s directions to the witches’ house, I took in the strange town. Most of the houses were low wooden shacks, the road of simple dirt. There was still a fair amount of trees crowded around and in between the shacks, making it look as though the shacks were haphazardly placed in a forest. The canopy of trees giving the town a dark shaded appearance, almost on the verge of being overgrown and abandon. 

The town wasn’t totally abandon however, just eerily quiet. Given the amount of houses we passed and the time of day, there should have been far more people still out and about. The only people we did pass was an old man sweeping his porch and an older couple taking a walk. They all had given us the same strange look, like they wanted to say something but were too shy or afraid. 

By the time we rode to the main avenue it was nearly twilight. There were a few empty small shops, an inn, and an old tavern, all nearly vacant. The witch lived at the very end of this main avenue. 

The Bones’ shack was very much the evil twin of Agnieszka’s cottage. While Agnieszka’s was brimming with life, the Bones’ felt like death. It was built at the base of an old dead oak tree. The ground around it, nothing more than muddy dirt with strange looking mushrooms growing here and there. An unnatural green smoke puffing out of the chimney. Even the very wood that made up the shack looked old, brittle and gray. 

We hitched our horse and climbed the creaky, pumpkin lined stairs to the front door. “Well this place couldn’t be anymore creepy,” I commented as Agnieszka knocked on the crooked door. 

After a few moments we were standing in front of the witch aptly called, ‘the Bone’. She was rail thin and quite tall for a women, about my height. She had long gray hair tied up in a tight bun under sharp pointy features and piercing grey eyes. She was an older witch but certainly not ancient looking. In fact, the ease and grace of her movements suggested youthfulness. 

“This must be Agnieszka of Dvernik, don’t worry I got your latest letter, I was expecting you. And who is your friend?” Her voice too overly sweet to be genuine.

“The Dragon,” I said. “I’m lord of the Valley just on the other side of the mountain. Agnieszka is my apprentice.” 

“Well of course I’ve heard of the famed Dragon, the most powerful wizard in Polnya. Agnieszka, why didn’t you tell me you were the apprentice of such a prominent wizard? Surely he may be able to teach you the spell, although, maybe not. In the capital, where your master was most likely trained,” she looked to me to validate that fact. I nodded to her. “They exclude much of the more controversial spells from their library. Such a pity I say, to throw away knowledge like that. Well, I’m sure you did not come to hear me talk about politics. Welcome to my home.”

She curtsied and ushered us in. The moment I stepped inside I felt the subtle hook of a possession spell take hold of me. Within half a second I already had the counter spell on my tongue but something was wrong. My tongue wouldn’t cooperate, my mouth wouldn’t move, my very facial expression unchangeable. I’ve never known a possession spell to be this powerful. On the inside I was screaming, raging, fighting, but I was a man trapped in his own body. 

“Are you alright?” Agnieszka asked. She must have felt some subtle change in my magic. I saw a nervous expression flicker across the Bones face, the deep extent of mine and Agnieszka’s connection catching her off guard. 

“I’m fine, I’m just a bit stiff from the long ride. I was just going to take a short walk to the tavern to stretch my legs. I’ll be back in a moment, you two carry on,” I said in my most natural tone even though I was bursting. 

“You’re certainly more relaxed.” Agnieszka muttered to me. 

I felt the corners of my mouth being pulled up into a smile that was not my own as my legs moved against my will out the door. I saw the Bones’ hand behind her back, her fingers moving, pulling my strings. I was her puppet. My very bones were hers. She gave me a sideways sneer as I walked out the door absolutely horrified. 

I was so shocked at the ease of my movements. The way I was walking, so like my own natural, steady stride. That witch knew. She knew she couldn’t handle the both of us so she was getting me out of the way to do God knows what to Agnieszka. There were songs from here to Rosya about me and Nieszka, how we were could share magic and become more powerful than most witches and wizards could ever dream to be. 

I fought and fought against every bone in my body, with every fiber of my being, used every ounce of my magic as I walked calmly down that street and further away from Nieszka. I desperately poured my magic into my hands, my feet and my fingertips but with nowhere for it to go, no incantation to shape it, no hand to move it, I think I was just draining myself out. I was doing the very thing I warned Agnieszka never to do. I was pouring my magic out too fast. 

By the time I reached the tavern, I was feeling very light headed. When I entered I felt my sight grow dim, my body heavy. I must have blacked out because the next thing I remembered an old man was standing over me, helping me pull myself up off the floor and into a chair. He was fanning me with a bar rag and trying to get me to drink some strong, sweet smelling tea. 

“Thought you were a goner,” he said, in a raspy voice. My body felt stiff and achy. I moved my arms and legs to shake the stiffness out. For some reason I found myself staring down in wonder at my own movements. My mind was foggy and I wasn’t sure how I had gotten here. I vaguely remembered me and Agnieszka on a horse. I think the old man saw the confusion in my face. 

“Name’s Cyrus, I’m the owner. Well, actually it’s my parents place but they’re gone now. Saw you come in and try to sit yourself in that chair but you just slumped out and fell to the floor.” 

I took in the place, looked to be a small, shabby tavern with only a few tables and a bar, empty accept for Cyrus and me. Suddenly a sense of urgency rose within me. I was with Agnieszka last I remembered but she wasn’t with me now. I felt so confused, I knew some sort of corruption or dark magic was at work. 

“Did I come in with a girl?” I asked. 

“Nope, no girl.”

“Where are we?”

“We’re in my tavern, ‘The Leaky Mug’.” I stared at the man still hopelessly confused.

“I hate to break it to you but you’re in Peaceful Pass,” he continued. “And unfortunately there’s no way out. I always hate to break the news to ill-fated travelers that happen to pass through, but their first stop is usually here or the inn across the street.”

“What! What do you mean, _‘there’s no way out,’_?” I asked, alarmed.

“Sorry, but once you enter the boarders of Peaceful Pass there’s no getting back out,” he whispered, as if someone else might be listening. “You see, Peaceful Pass is under the control of an evil witch. She has placed a dark spell on the town preventing any of us from leaving. She uses the townspeople and unlucky travelers like yourself to preform her spells of black magic. That’s why I look like this.” He gestured to himself but I didn’t catch his meaning. He looked like a perfectly normal looking old man. 

“Evil witch?” I said slowly. Then suddenly everything snapped back into place with perfect clarity. With the fog lifted, I remembered everything. I remembered the Bone, her creepy shack, Agnieszka, the possession spell, her sideways sneer. “Nieszka!” I said out loud. 

The alarming realization dawning on me, I ran out the door so fast I knocked my chair over, Cyrus unable to get out another word. I bolted down the street with tremendous speed using the quickening spell. I was surprised that after draining out much my magic, I still had enough to use a spell. My legs still felt a little shaky from blacking out but I felt my magic was ready to answer me. The cup that had been almost drained only moments ago, was now filling back up, maybe even overfilling the more I thought about Agnieszka. I felt it thrumming through my veins burning to come out.

When I reached the Bones’ shack the door burst into pieces before I even touched it. The funny thing was, I didn’t remember using a spell to do it. I guess there are still aspects of my own magic I have yet to master. Before I entered however, I put my strongest shield spell around me to prevent her from possessing me again. I was in the entryway and took in the terrible scene.

Agnieszka was crumpled in a chair by the fireplace, lifeless and unmoving. I looked closer however and noticed her labored breathing; I groped around, still feeling the slight tingle of her magic. Alive, she still had a chance. The Bone was using her fingers in a beckoning like motion and chanting a low tune that made my hair stand on end and my stomach churn. The air around Agnieszka seemed to glow with silver, translucent threads. The Bone slowly beckoning the threads towards her. 

I had only seen a spell like this once before. When I was very young, I watched as it was performed on a notorious murderer in the dungeons of the kings’ castle as a means of execution. A killing curse that slowly steals years of life away from the victim. I have also seen the spell used to take a specific number of years away from a criminal rather than imprisoning him. The spell so dark however, its use was discontinued shortly after. I knew each silver thread literally represented one year of the victims life, but I wasn’t aware the one casting could put those years on themselves. The Bone was stealing Agnieszka’s life away, taking each year as her own and instinctively I knew she would try to take them all. 

A terrible, uncontrollable fury rose within me, but I knew I had to keep calm if I was going to be able to save Agnieszka. Magic had no room for emotion. It needed a steady hand to guide it. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, trying desperately to fill my head with spells. 

Immediately, I tried to cast another shield spell around Agnieszka but my magic hit a wall, she must have shielded the entire room. As I looked closely, I could see the telling faint shimmer around the shields borders. She rounded on me when my spell hit her wall.

“Well, well, well that possession spell should have lasted much longer,” waving her finger at me like I was disobedient child. “The girl must certainly be much more to you than _just_ your apprentice.” She laughed like a beast that had caught the scent of blood in the air. My anguish entertained her. Fed her. Thrilled her. I set my features hard and cold, refusing to let her take power from my suffering. I had already began the rather long incantation to remove her shield. 

Thankfully, with her concentration on me and the integrity of her shield, the spell draining Agnieszka’s life slowed significantly. The silver threads that once filled the air where now barely coming out in trickles. With the Bones concentration so divided I knew it wouldn’t be long before her shield was down, and when it was the real fight would begin.


	5. Duel

I was already thinking of spells that would end her quickly. Typically, when two wizards duel it’s best to use the part of your magic that comes naturally, magic that requires only a quick movement or single word so your opponent will have little time for a counter spell. For me, these types of spells were fire spells but in the close quarters of the dry wooden shack and Agnieszka so near and immobilized, fire would be too risky. Magically, I was at a true disadvantage. 

Her shield was nearly down. Beads of sweat were forming on her brow as she fought for every piece of her crumbling spell.

“I guess it’s true what they say about dragons; they don’t care for much, but when they find a bit of plunder they just can’t let it go. Tonight, I will teach you how to let go of this shiny new witch of yours,” she cackled. She was trying desperately to distract me, I didn’t bite.

The shield around the room came down with in abrupt snap and in an instant she had already threw another possession spell my way. Thankfully, my own shield easily deflected it. Quickly, I tried to put a shield around Agnieszka but it wasn’t working. Like a desperate idiot I tried a few more times, when I knew full well that if it didn’t work the first time, it wasn’t going to work at all. She saw my desperate, emotional move and curled her lips into a sick, satisfied smile. I knew higher order spells could only be stopped if the witch casting were dead or stopped it voluntarily. She wasn’t going to stop. I was going to have to kill her. 

Before I had a chance to refocus I was shot with another spell that knocked me off my feet and threw me heavily to the floor. The warm, metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I must have bitten my tongue on the fall. I scrambled to my feet, quickly conjuring ropes and chains that coiled and tightened around her like snakes. 

Twisting my wrist and balling my fist, I tightened them around her throat. She was writhing on the floor and gasping for air. I didn’t have the stomach to listen to the noise she was making so I began the incantation to snap her neck, the one I had used on the wolves that were attacking Agnieszka and Kasia in Dvernik. 

Between gasps I heard her utter a spell. All my ropes and chains were suddenly glowing bright purple and they quickly crumbled apart and fell to the floor. My spell had already lifted her a few feet above the floor, but just before I could finish and give her the quick end she probably didn’t deserve, she made a sweeping motion with her arm, falling bodily, heavily back down. 

Before she could recover I hurled a group of fire balls at her. The fire balls where unique in the way they worked. They were merely pebble sized balls that would only burst into flame when they found their target, perfectly safe for my highly flammable surroundings. 

When they hit her however, they burst into flames inches in front of her face, she must have made a weak shield before she recovered from my previous spell. They succeeded however in breaking down her shield, the faint shimmer around her disappearing. I hurled a few more fire balls at her but she moved and dodged them with the speed and grace of an athlete in her prime. After a few more tries she half ducked, half fell behind a chair. I was so sure I had hit her. I ran towards her to finish her with some more fire but she jumped back up. 

“The renowned Dragon has singed my favorite dress!” she said, mocking me. With a swift move of her hand she conjured a wall of knives pointed in my direction. I was only a few feet in front of her so I had nowhere to dodge it. In an instant dozens of knives hit me with such force I was knocked off my feet, my shield easily destroyed. I scrambled to my feet unhurt, ducking and dodging behind furniture as she continued to throw more knives my direction. Between cover I hurled more fire balls at her. 

We went on this way for what seemed like a long time, but in reality it was probably a few minutes. Our surroundings making it very difficult to truly duel. The room itself was no bigger than my library and every time I was beginning to have her on the defensive she got dangerously close to Agnieszka, basically using her as a human shield. 

Logically, I knew I couldn’t win dodging knives and flinging fire balls all night. I had to figure out a way to change the pace of the fight. But before I even had a chance to think, the Bone’s knives seemed to suddenly increase in number. Instead of throwing one or two at a time, she was throwing six! I dove behind a couch but I felt the sharp sting of a knife deep in my shoulder before I even hit the floor. 

She was on me in an instant, seeming to know even before the knife found its mark that I was momentarily vulnerable. Feeling the subtle hook of her possession spell, my legs stood me up unnaturally fast on their own accord. Covered in sweat, blood trickling down my lip, the sharp throbbing pain of the knife buried to the hilt in my shoulder, I was standing face to face with the Bone who looked barely winded, drunk with the delight of my blood. 

“Now we can have some real fun,” she said, bushing the dark sweaty locks of my hair away from my face. 

I tried to flinch away from her but the action was terribly painful. Surprisingly, I was able to flinch ever so slightly, I had a very small amount of control left, unlike the first time she possessed me. Perhaps it was because her attention was divided between me and Agnieszka or being I was expecting an attack, my own magic was fighting the spell but as far as I knew she could have just been toying with me to watch me squirm. She wasn’t just a typical predator that killed out of necessity, but a monstrous glutton that liked to play with her food.

I stood there frozen, trying desperately to move my hands, my legs, even the muscles in my face, but with every small movement I was able to produce, I was only met with excruciating pain. A pain like I was being cut from the inside out, tearing of bone and muscle and nerve. The knife sticking out of my shoulder only a ghost of the pain I was in now. I couldn’t help letting out a tight, choked moan with every effort, my eyes beginning to tear.

She made a clicking noise with her tongue as if to scold me. “It would be so much easier if you didn’t fight it. Although, you suffer gorgeously.” 

She looked me over closely, studying me with her piercing gray eyes. Suddenly, I felt her grip on me loosen and I was able to move my face, maybe even talk. Although, her hold on my body was still strong. 

“I remember you, pale, dark eyes, dark hair, same frown on your face. I wanted you as my apprentice when you were a boy. Of course the wizards in the Charovnikov would have none of it. They’d rather you remain an unwanted orphan while they drilled into your head how to control your magic. But I suppose it was in the capitals best interest to have you in control and under their thumb. Better to ensure the futures most powerful wizard be loyal to them. What a waste,” she sighed. “With your power behind it, I could have taught you the magic of legend.” 

“I don’t care!” I shouted. My temper flaring up, the room darkened momentarily. Something like a look of fear crossed her face. I suppose she didn’t know I was able to speak through her spell. 

“Let Agnieszka go right now and you can do whatever you want with me!”

A smile drew across her face. “You are a fool, and you apparently think I’m one too,” she said casually. “You don’t think I hadn’t noticed her magic? She may have even more than you! If she cares even half as much for you as you apparently seem to care for her, if I let her go, she’ll come back to seek revenge upon me. I can’t let either of you go now, you’re both far too powerful! And if you hadn’t noticed, I have almost drained this town already. I need her years.”

I knew there was no reasoning with this witch, she was purely evil and totally insane. I began the incantation to free myself from her spell but before I could utter the first syllable I felt the sharp pain of the air dying in my lungs, making me aware she was in full control again. 

She moved my legs to make me follow her across the room by the fireplace where Agnieszka was crumpled in the chair. The moment I saw her I let out a gasp, the effort making me feel like my throat was being ripped out. Agnieszka’s hair was all streaked gray, a tangle of wrinkles lined her face, her breathing very shallow, but what was most alarming, I couldn’t feel her magic. 

Something in me snapped, a rage more powerful than I’ve ever felt in all of my one hundred and fifty years. I poured my magic into my arms and with an effort that felt like I was ripping them off, I momentarily broke her spell and pulled the knife out of my shoulder. Warm blood blossomed out of the wound and dripped heavily down my arm. Gripping the blood slicked knife, I grabbed the Bone and went for her throat. 

When I was inches away from slicing her, an invisible force jerked the knife out of my hands. The knife sliced across my palm and wedged itself in the wall behind Agnieszka. The Bone looked up at me, shocked I was able to break her spell. 

With no weapon and only partial control of my own body, I desperately lunged towards her trying to strangle her. She let out startled cry as my fingers tightened around her neck, her face growing pale, terror etched in her features. For a second I thought I had the upper hand, until I felt a strong pair of hands grip me like a vice around my throat. It took me a second to come to the horrifying realization that my own hands were strangling me! 

I would have collapsed to my knees but I was still locked in place from her spell. I gasped desperately for air, my head feeling as if it would float away, my vision falling out of focus. She only allowed me enough air to keep my heart beating but it was an impossible struggle. The only silver lining, the Bones’ energy was on me. I watched happily as the threads that were being torn away from Agnieszka had slowed to a stop. 

“Hmm. What are we going to do with you?” She spoke as if I were merely a slight annoyance, a pesky fly that had gotten into her kitchen. I was eye to eye with her still gasping for air, my hands still tight around my neck. 

“I’d thought it would be fun for you to watch, but you are proving very difficult to control. I can’t possibly finish this spell and control you at the same time. Too bad, I really wanted to keep you around for a while. I could have thought of all kinds of ways to make you _useful,_ ” she said, as she traced a line from my chest down to my navel with the tip of her finger. If I had control of my bodily functions and wasn’t gasping for air, I think I would have thrown up in my mouth a little.

“You’re still fairly young for a wizard, I couldn’t possibly waste your years by killing you now. Maybe we can still have a bit of fun, Agnieszka’s almost spent anyway, you’ll finish her and then I’ll settle for the rest of your years.”

Horror swept over me when I heard her say, _‘you’ll finish her’_. Not even an evil witch could be this sadistic, I had to have heard her wrong! 

But I wasn’t wrong. In that instant my hands fell away from my throat and my feet took slow purposeful steps towards Agnieszka. Tortured, muffled cries filled the room. They were my cries. The witch began cackling at me as if she were watching a comical puppet show. 

“You wanted to strangle me so badly, it only seems fitting that you get to strangle someone tonight,” she said with an amused laugh.

_No! No! No! I refuse. I refuse. I refuse!_ I tried desperately to break her spell again, the pain of the effort like nothing I had ever felt before. With all her focus now on me, the spell was impossible to break. 

My legs stopped, I was looming over Agnieszka. She was just as beautiful old as she was young, still glowing and brimming with life. How could I have ever thought her not beautiful? This will not be the final thing I do, it can’t be! It won’t be. Warm tears were blurring my eyes as I felt my arms reach towards Agnieszka’s throat. Suddenly, I remembered how I had broken her spell in the tavern. I had drained my magic out. I fainted and when I came to the spell was broken! 

I took one last look at Agnieszka and drained myself of my magic as quickly as possible. The air around me glowing an eerie faint red. I knew doing it so quickly like this was probably going to kill me, but I didn’t care. I refuse that my last act in life should be killing the only thing I have ever truly loved. I’d rather end my life myself than have that evil witch end it for me and use my years for her sick purposes!

_I’m sorry, Nieszka._ I felt my fingers begin to tighten around her neck, sure to leave the imprints of my failure. _I love you,_ I said to her in my head but I wanted my lips to say it. I wanted to know what her eyes looked like when I said it to her face. Oh, how I wanted this! I didn’t want to whisper it anymore! What years I wasted being too cold and afraid! 

Before my traitorous, sickening hands could touch Agnieszka more than a few seconds, I felt my knees give out from under me. The sudden weakness causing me to collapse heavily onto the dusty wooden floor. 

The Bone let out a sound of frustration, “What a fool! If you die, you’ll have wasted all your years on a girl who was already gone!” I couldn’t see but I heard her step over my body and sit down in the armchair across from Agnieszka. “If you’re still alive by the time I finish with her, I won’t let your years go to waste.”


	6. Magic and Miracles

Before I completely lost consciousness, I heard the Bone continue her stomach churning incantation that would completely drain Agnieszka’s life away. I tried again and again to move but I couldn’t, my eyes wouldn’t even open. I knew I was no longer under her possession spell but I hadn’t completely blacked out either, I was lost somewhere in between. 

I felt a warm, wet puddle growing beneath me, the blood from my shoulder and palm. I wasn’t sure what the effects of draining all my magic out so quickly were, but I knew there was a point of no return, especially for a wizard that was beyond his normal human lifespan. 

I had once read the reason why wizards do not age at a normal rate was purely because of their magic. Magic had a much longer life than a human, and a wizard was no more than a human with a bit of magic. If I had truly drained every last drop I would surely die, being my human lifespan should have already ended. Had a younger wizard drained all their magic, they would have a much better chance at survival because they would still be in the confines of their human lifespan. 

Another moment passed when I realized I probably had reached that point of no return. I was dying. I felt it. The Bones sickening chanting sounded further and further away. My body felt so different. A coldness had crept in, the warmth living under my skin, my magic. Gone. My very limbs felt as if they had already floated away. The concept of movement, of limbs, of sight, of sound almost seemed foreign to me now. I was just a bundle of thoughts left over that would soon fade away too. 

With all the time I had, I never even bothered to give the afterlife much serious thought. Being I was dying, was I supposed to be saying a particular prayer? If there was one I certainly didn’t know it! I was by no means a religious man. I hadn’t spoken to God in many, many years and to do so now at this last desperate moment almost felt ridiculous. Too little, too late. I always thought empty words and silly rituals to be dubious at best to determine holy or unholy, pure or corrupted. There had to be something more to it but I was in no condition to ponder such things. 

I was so desperate. I tried praying but all I could think about were all those years I wasted isolating myself in my Tower. All the people I was so cold towards, both when I lived in Kralia and the Valley. So many missed opportunities for friendships. Agnieszka’s family too, was wasted on me. I never had a family, but for the past couple of years I had the opportunity to get to know them better. But I didn’t. Especially Agnieszka’s mother, she always went out of her way to make me feel welcome, she practically treated me like I was one of her own children, but like an idiot I kept my distance. Even Agnieszka, in some ways I still kept her at arm’s length, still held back from her. Why? 

With all the time I had I certainly didn’t make much of it count for anything. In all my many years, only the past few held any moments worth remembering. I had spent my life calling people fools, but sitting on the thread between life and death I came to the conclusion that I had been the biggest fool of all. 

_“If by some miracle Agnieszka and I make it out of this, I won’t be a fool anymore,”_ I said silently. And that was my prayer. 

I was at the point where I was unable to form rational thoughts anymore. Something like a feeling of peace washed over me. My mind was in a haze and I could no longer fight the inevitable. When suddenly I felt her. I felt my Agnieszka! My heart leapt with joy. Her hand was in mine. Her familiar soothing touch, her thumb gently stroking the underside of my wrist. For a second I thought maybe I had died and was entering the afterlife, (if such a place would ever let in a foolish, unholy man such as myself). But I still felt the dull pain of the stab wound on my shoulder and palm, I still felt the warm puddle of blood beneath me and I could still smell its metallic scent. I was indeed still alive. Barely.

Agnieszka’s hand was still in mine. She wasn’t only holding my hand but pushing magic into it. It was just a tingle at first, but quickly a powerful warmth grew under her hand. It felt as if a fire were smoldering just under her skin. It became so hot I almost wanted to flinch away. Before the heat became too much to take, I felt my bodily senses becoming stronger. The dull pain in my shoulder becoming sharp, sensation coming back to my fingertips and toes and I found I could move my mouth and open my eyes. I was still far too weak to stand however, just lifting my head up seemed near impossible. 

Before I opened my eyes, she abruptly let go of my hand. I looked up expecting to see my amazing, impossible, perfect Nieszka standing over me, ready to launch into some silly, long winded story about how she had broken the spell and defeated the witch. But as I looked around the room nothing had changed. My heart sank when I saw she was still crumpled in the chair, so old she looked little more than a corpse and the Bone was still sitting across from her continuing her terrible chanting. The silver threads that had once filled the air around her were nearly all gone.

This made no sense! I was so sure Agnieszka was just holding my hand! Of course it was impossible, she was still unconscious and under the witches spell. Even if I had only felt her magic and not her actual hand, she still wouldn’t have been able to push her magic in any direction in her state, let alone be able to push it into me. Whatever happened was truly impossible and I didn’t have time to question it. I had somehow gotten a second chance and I had to do something to make it count. 

I knew I couldn’t do much given my weakened state. Any spell I could have spoken would have been easily countered and without full use of my body any counter spell the Bone threw at me would have easily found its mark. I couldn’t let her turn me into a monster again, I just couldn’t! I shuddered to think of Agnieszka dying by my own hand. I had to think, I had to strategize my next move carefully. And as much as I hated to do it, I had to temporarily close off my emotions towards Agnieszka to be able to calm down and think properly, even though it was killing me all over again to see her like that. 

The more the rational part of my brain thought however, the more I saw there was no solution. Getting Agnieszka out of here alive was impossible! I was getting so frustrated. I was dying before, if I had gotten a second chance or some sort of Godly miracle, I couldn’t be here again only to watch her fade away! Why was I back if I couldn’t help her? This whole situation was impossible! 

Then it hit me, I thought about that word, _impossible._ It was the very word I used to describe Agnieszka; her, and her magic. She somehow didn’t always need a particular word or structure to form a very powerful spell. She had many times described it as gleaning in the woods, picking through different paths until she found the right one, the one that, _‘felt right’._ I had tried her way of magic many times, not that I would ever admit that to her, but I always came up short at the, _‘felt right,’_ part. I never knew what she meant by that. To me, magic was more like the building blocks of a great house. The spell gave the blocks their structure and shaped them for the purpose that was needed. The blocks never carried any particular _feeling_ to them. But I had to try it her way, it was all I had left. 

If the roles were reversed, somehow I think Agnieszka would have been able to save me, not that I would ever admit that to her either. She does have a talent for getting herself into trouble, but unlike me, she always knows her way out of the woods.


	7. Gleaning

I closed my eyes, relieved to block out the horrible scene before me and took my walk through the woods. I let my magic flow before my mind’s eye, when soon a forest of great old oaks and low thorny brambles took shape in front of me. The scent of dirt and leaves filling my nose. Ugh. 

There was no true path in this forest and I had the feeling I was wandering around a bit too long. I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for. Well, I suppose I was looking for the proper spell to defeat the witch and save Agnieszka, but how could a thing like that be found in a forest of all places! _This is pure lunacy,_ I thought, as I felt like I had passed the same tree for the third time. 

I stopped my wandering and took a deep breath trying to clear my head. I wasn’t looking for a spell yet, first I had to find a path that _felt right._ But the more I wandered looking for the right path, the more it felt wrong. I stumbled over branches, ran into areas too dense with vegetation to pass through and worst of all, I was getting my hands dirty! Out of the corner of my eye I almost saw Agnieszka shaking her head, telling me I had done something wrong. 

Maybe when Agnieszka described her impossible magic as, _‘gleaning through the woods’_ , it was simply her way of saying she was finding something, and the woods were just the right place for her to search. _She_ was good at searching for something in the woods, _I_ certainly wasn’t. Woods were dirty and uncomfortable places to me, not to mention the bad memories they always brought up. She also said there were different ways the path could be taken. I needed to be in a place where I was good at finding things, where I was comfortable.

Suddenly, I knew where I had to go. I closed my eyes again leaving the forest behind me, and when I opened them back up the familiar scent of dry parchment and dusty books greeted my nose. I was back in my library. Abruptly, I understood Agnieszka’s meaning when she said the path had to _‘feel right’_. This was the right path, the spell was hidden here somewhere and I was going to find it. I had to find it. 

My long, pen callused fingertips deftly searched each shelf. Quickly I realized that these books were quite different from the books in my real library. They had no titles, no words and what’s worst, they were in no particular order. As I ran my finger along each spine, I found that each book was imbued with a particular feeling, the feeling of different aspects of my own magic. I suppose magic did carry a small amount of feeling to it, most of the books mundane and rather simple in feel however.

A book with a dark green cover contained the warm feeling I got in my stomach when I first learned _Lirintalem._ Upon opening it, I saw a clear moving image of myself as a child, changing some indistinguishable cafeteria food into a chocolate cake. Another little brown book showed me the side to side whirling motion I felt when I put my transportation spell on the Valley. 

I went through dozens of books like these, none of which felt neither right nor wrong. So magic had feeling! So what! None of this was going to show me how to quickly and silently dispatch an evil witch, while I was bleeding out, immobile and only had a drop of magic to work with! 

I was feeling more than a bit frustrated again, and I was worried I was running out of time. I quickened my pace, bushing my finger across each spine, trying promptly to decide which book _felt right._ Suddenly, a powerful feeling came over me, my eyes went wide and I traced my finger a few books back to where I had felt it. “Nieszka?” I said out loud, pulling out a beautiful, new, rose colored book, inlayed in a golden flower garden motif. 

The full weight of my hand on the cover brought me a feeling of pure euphoria, my heart skipping a beat. I hastily opened it. Moving images of Agnieszka and I sharing our magic for the first time were splayed across the page. Our simple rose illusion, growing wild through the library. From this view, I could see the look on my face at her touch and the touch of her magic, the flush of my cheeks betraying me. How I gave myself away to her even in that first moment. My magic felt perfect and whole with hers intertwined in it, totally and blissfully complete. 

I knew if I turned the pages of this wonderful book, I would have found each breathtaking moment I had ever shared my magic with Agnieszka, and though this felt like the most right thing in the world, it still didn’t _feel right._ That is to say, it didn’t contain the type of magic I needed to defeat the witch. I had no chance of combining magic with Agnieszka while she was still under the witches spell. But how desperately I wanted to never let go of this book. I coveted it like any sensible dragon would covet his treasure. I had trouble putting it down. I hugged it to my chest, feeling the very roots of my soul reaching out to envelope and bind the book to my body. 

Time was of the essence however. With my hand trembling, I pried the book away from my grasp, returning it to its place on the shelf. Before continuing my search, I couldn’t help running my finger along its spine one last time, savoring its rapture. 

As I regretfully continued my gleaning, I came across another book with a powerful feeling attached to it, but this feeling wasn’t a good one. The magic steeped in it felt of shame and rejection. Yet, somehow, I felt this book would bring me closer to the one that _felt right._ I hesitantly pulled out the old, tattered, cornflower blue book. Opening it, I came upon a scene I would rather forget. 

I was no more than a boy of ten or eleven, playing in a court yard during a free period when I lived in the Charovnikov, The Hall of Wizards. I remember that year well because it was the first year of my formal magical training. Typically, magical children from more modest backgrounds get taken on by a local witch or wizard as an apprentice, but to take formal classes in the Charovnikov was considered a privilege. Even at that young age, I knew I was fortunate to study there. I truly enjoyed studying magic, and was happy spending most of my time between lessons and in the library with my spell book. I even liked meeting all the different children who had come to study there and had already made a few acquaintances. 

In the court yard, I was participating in a mock duel with two other boys about my age. Magical children often would draw a circle in a patch of sandy ground and try to push one another out using magic, but only with weak harmless little spells. Some would throw little clods of dirt, conjure gusts of wind or scatter little sparks on the ground. Simple child’s play. Most witches and wizards that young wouldn’t even be able to produce spells more powerful than that until they reached adolescence.

The scene opened up as I danced away form a powerful wind spell that could have knocked me off my feet. Sitting in the grass on the sidelines was Solya – whom I most certainly was never friends with – chanting for me to lose. He had agreed to play the winner of our little dual, boasting that because he was the most talented wizard of our grade, he should have at least some challenge. _Even then he was an arrogant moron!_ I recovered and threw a barrage of sparks at my opponents’ feet; another boy with whom I wasn’t friends and whose name I have long forgotten. My sparks almost caused the boy to jump out of the circle. Solyas’ high pitched, irritating laughter rang in my ears. 

“If you actually lose to that weird little orphan boy, I’ll be pretty embarrassed just to be seen around the castle with you!” Solya said to the boy I was dueling. “I suppose that’s why you don’t come outside much,” turning his attention on me, “must bring back bad memories of living on the streets! We only asked you to play so we could get a good laugh.”

“SHUT UP, YOU IDIOTIC PIG!” I shouted, losing my temper but also losing control of the spark spell still on my tongue. 

Before I could react, the little sparks I had been casting grew into an enormous fire ball. I tried desperately to stop it or redirect it somehow but it all happened so fast. In less than a second, the boy I was dueling was on the ground crying and writhing in pain, his body badly burned on one side. I ran over to him, wanting to try and help, to say I was sorry and that it was just a terrible accident but Solya stepped in front of me before I got there. He was bigger than me and shoved me easily to the ground. 

“YOU BURNED HIM ON PURPOSE!”

“No! I didn’t mean–” 

“I always wondered why they would let an orphan study magic here, they have to keep their eye on you so you don’t wander the streets and burn more kids to a crisp. My professor says, I have an ability for seeing magic and I saw you do something weird with your eyes. You wanted to burn him! You must be an evil wizard of the highest order! I’ll make sure no other kid in this castle ever makes the mistake of playing with you again.” 

“No. I’m…I’m so sorry,” I heard my high, squeaky voice plead, my face buried in my hands, trying desperately not to cry in front of Solya. 

The scene melted away and I turned to the next page. It showed me a moment from later that same day. I was in Aloshas’ private study; she was one of the witches assigned to be my guardian. Aside from the large bookshelf covering one wall, the other three were adored from top to bottom with every kind of weapon one could imagine. Quite an imposing place for a child. 

“You believe me, don’t you Alosha? It was just an accident. It was supposed to be just sparks like we learned in class but Solya made me mad and the spell changed somehow,” I explained behind tear stained cheeks, my young eyes looking warily at the weapons on the wall, wondering if they were for punishment as well as decoration.

“Of course I believe it was an accident, but accident or not, it does not change the fact that a boy was seriously injured.” 

I began to ask if the boy would recover. 

“Yes, the Willow began the healing process soon enough that there shouldn’t be any scaring but it is an intensive process,” she answered. “But for the safety of all the children here including yourself, it has been decided that you will no longer spend your free periods with the other children. Just until we can teach you the proper way to control your magic.” This news didn’t disappoint me, I already knew Solya probably spread the word of what I had done to half the castle by now. Surely no child would play with me anyhow. 

“Alosha, why am I here? There are no other orphans. All the other kids studying here come from wealthy families. Is it that the king wants to keep an eye on me because I’m…somehow, bad?”

“Now where did you get a silly idea like that? Just from all the concern and emotion you’ve shown toward the boy you hurt shows me your kind heart. If you truly were bad, you wouldn’t have any concern or fear about being bad. Does that make sense?” 

I nodded my head in response but she still hadn’t fully answered my question. Before I lost my nerve I asked again. Or rather, my younger self asked again. 

“So, why I’m _I_ here, in the kings’ castle, learning magic in the most prestigious school in the country and not in some orphanage?” 

She sighed and after a long pause she said in a low voice, “You are here because you are the most powerful wizard we have seen in over three centuries.” 

My younger self’s mouth hung open at this revelation. I knew I was a good student but I certainly never believed myself to be an especially powerful wizard. In fact, I had trouble with some of the simpler spells in the beginning. I remember that first year, the students were asked to hold a flame between their hands and keep it steady. My flame would only burn bright then fizzle out, my instructor getting irritated with me, having to give me a new flame more times than any of the other students. Solya’s irritating laughter ringing through yet another one of my memories! 

“Do you remember any of your life before coming to the castle when you were a toddler?” asked Alosha. 

“I can only remember being hungry and cold a lot,” my small voice answered.

“You may have been cold and hungry but you survived. You survived because your magic kept you alive. That is how we marked you as a very powerful wizard.”

I thought about what she said for a moment, and I did remember at times when I was very hungry, food seemed to practically appear before me. I always thought perhaps someone had given me food but the food was always warm and it was always just the kind I wanted. 

“But I didn’t know how to do magic then.” 

“You didn’t need to. Let me explain. Sometimes, in only the most powerful of wizards, in times of true need or desperation, high emotion even, magic can answer the need without the use of a spell. We call this, _raw magic._ But, as you have seen today, magic like this can be extremely dangerous. Using magic that way must be discouraged because if it is done too often, magic will learn to respond to all your feelings which would be catastrophic. A wizard must always be the master of his magic. That is why you must begin learning control and structure immediately. Until then, it is imperative that you keep your emotions in check. You will need to have sharp precision and discipline if you are to rein in your amount of power.”

“So the king’s keeping me here because I’m dangerous?”

“Well, yes and no. Yes, it would be quite dangerous for a powerful, untrained wizard to walk the streets, his magic fully corrupted to answer his every whim. We thought it best for you to be kept comfortable in the king’s castle so your magic wouldn’t have to respond to the desperate needs of an orphan. But, the king also wants you here because he values your talent, he knows you could be a very powerful asset to the crown in the future. 

“This incident was all our fault. The witches and wizards here should have known you needed to be taught how to control your magic sooner, especially given how we found you in the first place.” 

She began telling me the story of how I had burnt down an entire village just trying to keep myself warm. But I didn’t need to hear the rest because I knew what I needed to defeat the Bone and save Agnieszka. I shut the book and started looking for what would probably be the oldest book in this library and I was sure it would be steeped in the very feeling of desperation I felt now. 

After a few minutes of searching, on the bottom shelf I found a very old, gray book, practically falling out of its’ binding. When I picked it up, sure enough, the very same feeling of fear and desperation were reflected back to me. 

I urgently opened it up, coming upon a scene of me at age three stumbling through a narrow, snowy alley way, between two wooden buildings. I had no coat, only a sweater, a tattered hat and shoes that were better suited for spring. I was far too thin for a boy who should have still been carrying around baby fat. My skin was ghostly pale, eyes ringed in dark circles and cheeks all hollowed out. All the signs were evident. I was not just cold. I was freezing to death. 

I watched his desperation as each time he stumbled to the ground he tried so hard to pick himself back up. I wanted so badly to reach through the page, pick him up and tell him that he would be alright. _We_ would be alright. I felt what the boy was feeling, the coldness creeping in, senses fading, limbs too weak to answer and that instinctive awareness that the thread tethering you to this life was quickly fraying. 

I watched as the boy took his final stumble at the back of the alley near a large trash bin that connected the two buildings. He had fallen forward and was unmoving, face down in the snow for a few moments. With his last ounce of energy, he lifted his head from the snow and stared desperately at the trash bin. This was the kind of magic I needed, what Alosha called, _‘raw magic’_. If I was able to burn down an entire village at age three, half frozen and with no knowledge of magic, I’m sure I should be able to incinerate one witch with just the small amount of magic I had left. 

I could see the boys’ thoughts as he looked so desperately for warmth. He closed his eyes as he was imagining the trash bin as a fireplace roaring with flames. Around him the alley had darkened, not unlike how a room would darken at times when I lost my temper. I watched intently as I opened myself up to feel the boys’ magic. My magic. Crisp. Clear. Powerful. Scorching. 

I felt every crease and dark corner of it, etching every piece to memory. When the boy opened his eyes back up, the shadows quickly gathered over the trash bin. Solya was right about one thing, there was something different in my eyes. The pupils seemed to swallow the whites causing my eyes to look not unlike an actual dragon’s. But it was something else too, something impossible to describe. The magic’s channel perhaps. 

In seconds the trash bin burst into flames. Flames so hot and hungry it was as if someone had thrown an entire flask of fire-heart into the bin, they were already licking the sides of the dry wooden building. 

I had found what I needed.


	8. Frayed Threads and Loose Ends

I closed the book, and when I did I wasn’t in my library anymore but back in the Bones shack, still lying on the floor. Her spell was almost complete. The final thread, not silver like the others but gold, was being pulled away from Agnieszka. The Bone however, seemed to be having trouble pulling this final thread. I heard her repeating the same piece of her incantation as she leaned in to consult her spell book. If she succeeded I knew there would be no reversing the spell at this point. My Nieszka would be gone. 

My hearing still felt muffled and I was incredibly light headed. Judging by the loss of blood from my shoulder, I was surprised I was conscious. I knew I was only given a drop of my magic back, by now more of it should have begun to regenerate. But it didn’t. I was still very weak. 

Somehow, I felt when I poured myself out, I must have done permanent damage. It was like the cup holding my magic had shattered and I was desperately trying to keep its last drop held between my fingertips. A wizard my age needed magic to stay alive and I knew this last drop was meant for Nieszka. I had the feeling I wasn’t going to be leaving the Bones shack, but somehow I was perfectly at peace with it. My life had been so meaningless until I met Agnieszka, if my only purpose was to save her, I was glad for it. 

I focused on the Bone then closed my eyes. I imagined her burning. I heard the crackle of flame on flesh. I felt her ash. I sensed her absence. I poured all this into my last drop of magic. Through my closed eyes, I had a sense the room had darkened. The Bones sharp gasp giving me confirmation. A sudden prickling sensation pooling behind my eyes told me it was time to let go of the spell. I opened my eyes, channeling its power towards her. She was standing up with a look of horror on her face as if she knew what was happening, trying desperately to throw more possession spells my way. 

Instinctively, I knew her attempts were futile. Shadows already gathered around her, blotting her out like spilled ink on a once clear image. She began to scream in agony, yet I didn’t see any flames. The golden thread of Agnieszka’s life retreating back where it belonged. The Bone fell to her knees letting out panicked cries. She sputtered and flames issued out of her mouth, her eyes and her ears, turning her head into a jack-o-lantern with far too many candles. She was burning from the inside out. Her screams guttered out quickly, replaced by the hissing, hungry roar of fire. It took only mere seconds for the flames to finish their work. 

During her last few seconds of struggle, I looked away to happily see some color return to Nieszka’s pale old face. Despite what the people of the Valley thought of me, I never found pleasure in watching suffering, even when it was deserved. 

As she crumpled to the floor, engulfed in flames and forever silent, silver threads burst forth from the fiery wreckage that was once her body and filled the room. The room aglow in silver as hundreds of threads moved out widows and up the chimney, as if they were in a hurry to leave some awful party. Thankfully, the largest group left first, finding their way back home to Agnieszka. I knew my job was done. _Now wake up and get out of here you impossible girl!_

A Moment Later  
(Agnieszka)

I woke up to the smell of fire and something else. Something unsettling. Something that made my heart sink too far down into my chest. It was a smell I have only experienced once in my life, but I remember it well. After Marek’s army attacked Sarkan’s tower, the men from the village decided it was best to burn the fallen soldiers for fear of corruption. The smell of burning bodies is something I could never forget. I opened my eyes, my breath catching in my lungs seeing the Bone or at least what was left of her engulfed in flames just across the room, identifiable only by her pointed black boots. 

I stood up too fast tottering on my feet, confused, weak and in shock. My body felt strangely heavy, like I had been gravely ill and was just now returning to health. The last thing I remembered she had ushered me into a chair and was pulling out a spell book to show me. I looked away from the terrible scene, knowing sadly she was beyond any help I could offer. I knew I had to get out quickly as the flames were beginning to spread. Just as I was turning to go, my still fuzzy mind was beginning to grasp why I was unconscious, why the room was in shambles, where those precise, powerful flames could have come from. 

“SARKAN!” I cried out, seeing him bleeding and unmoving on the floor just feet away from me! I dashed to him and knelt down beside him, trying desperately to rouse him. I repeated his name in soft sobs. When he gave no response I shouted it, shaking him by his thin shoulders. My hand coming away to show me the source of the blood. Instinctively, I grabbed his hands. That startling heat that frightened me when his hand first touched mine at the choosing, the heat I came to love and long for, extinguished, causing a terrible panic to rise within me. I reached out with my magic trying to feel for his but he gave no response. I came away with the strange feeling that my right arm was gone, a piece of me missing. He was so frighteningly still, I wasn’t sure he was even still breathing! 

I held my breath as I checked for his with hot tears rolling down my cheeks. I was almost afraid to check, I didn’t want confirmation of my worst fear. I had to have hope that he was still with me. Sarkan couldn’t be gone, he couldn’t! He was the protective mountains that surrounded my Valley. Rigid and unchanging. A fixed point. He wasn’t only part of my home but part of me as well. If he were gone, I wasn’t sure I would be able to stand. I wasn’t sure I would have the will to save myself. Part of me would have rather stayed on the floor of that shack and burned with it! 

I felt under his nose to see if I could detect any movement of air. I laid my head on his chest to feel for signs of life. For one agonizing moment he was completely still. For one agonizing moment a knife tore through my chest, ripping out my heart and stealing the air from my lungs. 

Just as I was about to give up hope, my head still on his chest, I felt a sharp hitch in his lungs. Short, out of rhythm breaths began to come from him. I wanted to scream and cry with joy but could only manage to cough uncontrollably. The sudden reality that we were still in a burning building just dawning on me. 

My eyes burning from smoke, I saw the fire had quickly consumed a chair and was now creeping up the curtains. Its powerful heat prickling across my skin. Sarkan was still unconscious and even though he wasn’t too much larger than me, it was rather difficult lifting his dead weight up from the floor. As I was struggling with the effort, I heard his irritated voice echo in my head, _‘sometimes I think you forget you’re a witch’_. I spoke a spell for strength and easily slung him over my shoulder. Quickly, I carried him out the door of the burning shack, lying him down on the ground a safe distance away. 

I just wanted him to wake up and get mad at me for lying him in dirt, call me an idiot or a dirty peasant girl. Anything. I needed to hear his voice. 

I pulled off his coat and shirt so I could begin healing him, as I did I found a deep gash across his palm. He looked so undone and disheveled, I barely recognized him. His orderly dark hair, damp and matted to one side of his forehead. His tidy clothes, bloodstained and moist with perspiration. His always immaculate face, two shades paler than usual, a shadow of stubble on his always clean shaven chin. 

A sudden feeling of guilt crashed into me. Sarkan warned me over and over again that I was putting myself in danger. But I failed to realize I was putting him in danger too. I was so blinded by my own objectives, I didn’t give his safety a second thought! He was right about everything, I was walking into a trap and I was just a foolish young girl. I might as well have done this to him myself. 

The guilt was so heavy in my belly, for a moment I thought I might have gotten sick. But I shoved the feeling down as best as I could and began the spell to heal his shoulder and palm. My magic felt weak and sluggish, like walking through waist deep water in boots and a fancy dress. I attributed this to my guilty conscious and to whatever that witch had done or tried to do to me.

The gash across his palm wasn’t very serious and my magic knit the skin back together with ease, but the deep wound on his shoulder was proving more difficult. When I was finished the skin looked pink and raised in some areas. I was a decent healer but I was certainly no Willow and with my magic not at one hundred percent, I was certain I had left his shoulder permanently scared. 

I didn’t realize as I was healing Sarkan, an audience had gathered. Even though it was late into the night, many children and young people came to watch the witches shack burn and me perform my healing spell. Their faces seemed relieved and joyous, aglow in the flame of the Bones nearly engulfed shack. 

Seeing as I was a witch, they seemed wary to approach me. Until a boy of no more than sixteen burst forth from the group, carrying a cup. He bent down, seeming to recognize Sarkan and handed me the cup filled with some sort of strong, sweet smelling liquid. He introduced himself as Cyrus and explained in a raspy voice that the cup was filled with a very sweet drink his father taught him to make. It was used to rouse soldiers who had been knocked out or lost too much blood. When he had seen me carrying out Sarkan, he went back to the tavern to get it. 

He also told me that Sarkan had passed out in his tavern earlier that evening, confused and looking for a girl. It was so stupid of me to have taken so long to realize it, but I think the Bone must have cast a possession spell on him. Why else would he have left me alone with her after he had just explained how dangerous she could be? Even that strange smile he gave me as he walked out the door; he rarely ever smiles. How could I have not seen the signs? 

I saw another wave of guilt threatening to crash over me when Cyrus asked in a low voice, “So, is the witch really dead? Did you actually kill her?” He looked down at his hands and felt his face and said more to himself than to me, “She must be dead, her curse is broken.”

“Yes, the witch known as the Bone is dead but I didn’t kill her. The Dragon did,” I answered, gesturing towards Sarkan. 

“The Dragon?” Cyrus questioned in an incredulous tone, looking wide eyed at Sarkan then looking back at me. 

I always find it funny how people who have not seen him in person seem to be expecting something different. Maybe their expecting someone more wizardly looking like Solya, long white hair and billowing robes or at least with a name like ‘Dragon’ someone more physically imposing. What they get is a man with the look of a young, prim, irritated university professor. The thought brought a strange out of place smile to my face. I think I was just hysterical and happy he made it out alive.

Cyrus shouted to the crowd of children, “The witch is truly dead, the great wizard known as the Dragon has slain her!”

The crowd erupted with cheers, shouts and whistles. Some of the children began chanting, _‘Dragon, Dragon, Dragon’_. 

“QUIET,” shouted Cyrus. “He has been injured, he needs quiet as we heal him, and please keep back, give him room!” The crowed had slowly inched closer to us.

I put the cup under Sarkan’s nose to see if the smell might wake him, but while his breathing seemed more regular, the smell did not affect him. Putting a few drops to his lips however, seemed to have the desired result. 

The first few drops he let slide down his chin but after a few more tries he began moving his lips and soon after I saw him work his tongue to swallow. After a few more swallows, I felt his hand tightly griping mine. I had been holding his hand and with the other dropping small amounts of the sweet liquid onto his lips. 

His strong grip told me he was going to be alright. His hand began to warm, the nearly snuffed out embers beneath his skin being feed bits of kindling. The dying smoke, now giving birth to a weak flame. He coughed on the sweet liquid but did not open his eyes, a pained, frightened look on his face. A look I remembered so well when he was in the grip of a nightmare, his eyes too tightly shut.

Suddenly, I felt his magic twinning around me, weak, but still doing his best to feel me out. I responded with my own magic but he still would not open his eyes. I knew why he wouldn’t. He was afraid of what he would see, afraid I might not be there. Just like I had been afraid to check his breathing. 

I put my face in his, close enough for him to feel my breath on his lips and said his name, tasting all its fire and smoke. His dark, bottomless eyes fluttered open. He stared hard at me, shocked and disbelieving. I reassured him, meeting the wild look in his eye, like a cornered animal expecting an attack with as much composure as I could muster. I moved his damp, messy hair away from his forehead, cradling his head in my hand a moment, letting him feel me. 

He sat up on his elbows, off balance, still woozy. His look softened, relief flooding into him as another guilt wave hit me and at the same time we both crashed into each other’s arms. I was sobbing apologies into his neck, while he remained speechless. Although, he couldn’t hide his heaving chest or mask his damp eyes. 

During our embrace, time stopped working, we had fallen out of it. We may have held each other for seconds, minutes, hours, years; I wasn’t sure. Everything around us melted away as if we were the only two people left in the world. 

When we finally broke apart, Sarkan was trying to say something but his voice came out like sandpaper. I couldn’t understand him. He coughed on the sweet liquid coating his throat, as a frustrated look passed over his face. 

“I love you,” he finally got out clearly but far too loudly than intended, nearly a shout. He normally would never say it like this, to my face, in front of an audience no less. My face was hurting when I realized my smile couldn’t have grown much wider. 

“Well I’m not deaf,” I teased, kissing him far too passionately for the audience of children that surrounded us. His pleasantly feverish mouth obliterating mine. A few whistles from teenagers hung in our ears; Cyrus had knowingly stepped back into the crowd and when we pulled away we were both blushing. I was going to tell him I loved him back but I couldn’t because a date popped into my head and fell right out of my mouth.

“OCTOBER FIRST,” I said in a rush. Only after I said it did I realize it was the day he used to take a girl from the Valley, the day he took me.

“What on earth is that supposed to mean, you intolerable lunatic,” his face back to its natural state of irritation, expecting an, ‘I love you’ but getting a calendar date. 

“Our wedding date,” I explained.

“Oh… _Oh_ ,” his face had gone soft with wonder and delight, the look of child who had just opened his greatest Christmas present. His hands gripped mine a degree tighter. I had kept him waiting far too long.

“Well, we will have plenty of time to plan the perfect wedding,” he continued after a moment.

I shook my head in the negative.

“You…you can’t possibly mean—THAT’S LESS THAN A TWO WEEKS FROM NOW! You’re such a… a,” he was going to argue but he let out the unsaid words in a huff. “This suits you perfectly, I shouldn’t have expected anything else. This will be the most chaotic, disorderly…beautiful,” he kissed my forehead, his voice softening, “wedding in all of Polnya.” 

“Granted my mother is still well enough to attend.” 

“Of course,” he agreed, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear that had fallen into my face. 

“Wait a minute,” he added, the significance of that date finally dawning on him. “You couldn’t possibly want to remember–”

“Oh be quiet.” I shut him up with another kiss. 

For the next day and a half, Sarkan and I spent our time peacefully passed out in the spare room above the tavern Cyrus so kindly offered to us. On the walk back to the tavern, Cyrus had told us of all the terrible things the Bone had done to the towns people. When he was just a boy, little by little, people were disappearing. And when the people began to flea Peaceful Pass out of fear, she put a powerful shield spell around the town to keep them from leaving. 

When the disappearances became more frequent and the people found they were unable to leave, the men of the town band together to kill the witch but sadly she was too powerful. She possessed each man to kill his brethren. Neighbors killing neighbors, brothers killing brothers. Cyrus’ father lost his life in this skirmish. For punishment for the unnecessary loss of years, as the witch termed it, she declared that the remaining women and children were to give at least sixty-five years of their life to her. That was why the only people left alive in the town were very young, yet they only had appeared old because of her spell. Their years stolen. Cyrus declared that the oldest person left in town was only twenty-five!

Sarkan and I both expressed our condolences for the loss of Cyrus’s parents and the parents of all the towns’ children as well. We were both so thankful for his help and hospitality, we only wished we could have discovered the Bones treachery sooner. We both agreed we would check-in from time to time, and Sarkan conveyed that he would send some older adults from our Valley to care for the younger children and mentor and help the older children run the town. 

That night and the next day, Sarkan was unusually quiet. He had only told me the bare bones of what occurred in the Bones shack as we walked back to the tavern, but I knew the witch had done something terrible to him. Just by the way he held on so tightly to me that night in the small bed above the tavern spoke volumes. He always had a fear of being used for evil, remembering how he worried the Wood would make a monster of him. I could only imagine what unspeakable things a witch with a talent for possession spells could have done to him? 

It wasn’t until the morning when we were preparing to journey back to the Valley that he spoke candidly to me. It was the gray hour just before dawn, as we wanted to leave early so we could make it back to the Valley before evening. He had been outside feeding and watering our horse, while I had been packing food and supplies in my bag in the upstairs room above the tavern. I tied up the bag and caught a glimpse of myself in the small mirror above the wash basin, noticing some odd bruises around my neck. I looked closer, observing the long, slender, dark purple lines, an ugly kind of necklace. I heard a sharp intake of breath and when I turned around, Sarkan was standing right behind me with the darkest expression on his face. Suddenly, I had some understanding of what the Bone had done to him or rather what she made him do. 

He stalked over to the window across the room and I heard him let out a struggled sigh, his shoulders sagged and his head sunk low. I went over to him but he turned away from me in shame. I nudged up to him, not letting him hide his feelings from me. 

“I think I know why you’re so quiet. That witch must have been a master of possession spells and I’m guessing she made you–” 

“Nieszka, you shouldn’t have to guess, I don’t want to hold anything back from you anymore. It’s just painful for me to explain,” he said meeting my eyes. Even in the dim morning light I could see the slight gleam of unfallen tears in them.

“Well, when you’re ready to tell me, I’ll always be ready to listen,” I said softly, turning to get my bag. Before I could make it a step away from him, he grabbed my hand in one quick, precise movement without even turning around. 

“I’m ready now,” he said, then walked me over and sat on the end of the bed. 

He told me everything that happened in the Bones’ shack, even though I could see it was difficult for him. I had never seen him so emotional as when he described just how I had gotten those bruises on my neck. All I could do was comfort him. I reassured him over and over again that it was her who had hurt me, not him. Patting him like a spooked horse.

Our entire conversation wasn’t all painful however, it almost became lighthearted when he was explaining how he had used my unique way of doing magic to save us. I teasingly called him, ‘my good apprentice’ and it had coxed his rare but beautiful smile out and I almost laughed when he was describing his frustration gleaning in the woods.

We had talked for a while, letting time get away from us. The realization of just how close we both came to never leaving the Bones’ shack just dawning on me. I leaned on Sarkan as we both sat on the end of the bed, just happy we both had made it out. The way he described draining himself of his magic and then miraculously getting some back seemed amazing to me. I assured him I had no memory of helping him, but whatever had happened, I was truly grateful. A short prayer of thanks left my lips before we left the tavern. 

I wasn’t sure how long we sat there, but the sun had fully risen and Sarkan had fallen into absent mindedly playing with my hair as I held on to his other hand, still leaning on his shoulder. 

Abruptly, he jumped up, nearly toppling me off the end of the bed.

“Ugh. What are we doing sitting here like two bumps on a log? We have less than twelve days to plan a wedding, no thanks to you! I swear you are the most distracting creature. What are you gawking at, you infuriating contradiction? Let’s go!”

He’s back. 

We left the tavern intending to thank Cyrus one last time but he was nowhere to be found, so Sarkan left a short note. Thankfully, the weather had warmed and in the bright morning sunlight Peaceful Pass seemed much more true to its name. 

I had let Sarkan take the reins on the journey home. Somehow I found I didn’t mind him leading the way. After that terrible night in the Bones’ shack, I seemed to have a new found trust in him. When I offered him the reins he told me not to be squeamish and lose confidence in myself and insisted that the debacle with the witch was just as much his fault. Sometimes I wish other people could see him the way do, underneath his gruff exterior something wonderful lurks just beneath. I knew what he was willing to do for me in that shack. I knew he wasn’t expecting to come back. 

“I could have thought of a dozen different protection spells I should have laid on us before we even stepped on her cursed stoop! Greatest wizard of Polnya my ass,” he said as he got on the horse. I couldn’t help noticing him wince as he pulled himself up, using the arm with the injured shoulder. 

“Now who’s lost their confidence,” I teased. I could only see the back of his head but I knew he rolled his eyes at me.

As we neared the edge of the village, we saw Cyrus with a large group of children on the side of the road. He ran up to the side of our horse to meet us ahead of the group. 

“Lord Dragon,” he said with a bow. “We would like to honor your victory over the witch by rechristening our town.” He gestured toward the group of children standing beside a large sheet where the old wooden sign had been. 

“Thank you Cyrus, but,” Sarkan cleared his throat and lowered his voice a degree, “do make this fast, we’re in bit of a hurry.” I jabbed him with my elbow. 

“He would be honored,” I amended.

We cantered up to the group of children. 

“To forever remember the day lord Dragon, greatest wizard of Polnya, defeated the most evil, treacherous witch ever to be a scourge onto our people. We rename our town in his honor!” 

The children pulled the sheet off the sign after Cyrus’ speech, revealing the same sign with the carved letters that had once read, _‘Welcome to Peaceful Pass’_ but a wooden new board had been nailed over the word, _‘Peaceful’_ and been replaced with the word, _‘Dragon’s’_. 

“Welcome to Dragon’s Pass!” Cyrus proudly announced, arms outstretched. All the children began clapping and cheering. They quickly took up the chant, _‘Dragon, Dragon, Dragon’_. Sarkan turned back to me rolling his eyes but unable to hide the blush in his cheeks at all the attention. 

“Thank you. Thank you. I am truly honored,” he said when the cheers died down. “Please don’t think of me as some sort of hero because I had no intention of coming to your town to defeat an evil witch. I had no knowledge of the dire situation here and only wish I could have known sooner. Actually, much of the credit deserves to go to my apparent— future wife, Agnieszka. She is the one who dragged me out here in the first place.” 

Some more cheers and a few whistles erupted from the crowd. I bowed my head to show my respect. 

“I suppose I was just in the right place at the right time, but again I am truly honored to have helped you all,” he finished, getting down from our horse to have a final word with Cyrus, the crowed already beginning to disperse. 

“Thank you Cyrus, you have been an invaluable friend to Agnieszka and me and even though it has been my way to forget where I have friends, I shall not forget you.” He shook Cyrus’ hand and got back up on our horse. 

As we rode back up the mountain towards home, I couldn’t help the bitter sweet ache in my chest. I was so happy Sarkan and I made it out of the Bones’ shack and I was so happy we were getting married. A greater understanding and trust seemed to have grown between us. But I couldn’t help feeling that I failed both him and my mother. The unspeakable horror I put him through, I had nearly gotten him killed – worse than that, he had nearly killed himself twice trying to save me, resigned himself to it! And my mother, if the doctor was right and she was slowly going to get sicker, all I had accomplished was wasting precious time I could have spent with her. I, being a powerful witch, was completely useless to her! 

“Nieszka, as a witch you have been far from useless to your mother.”

“Did you just read my mind?”

“I don’t know, that was never clear. But does your thick skull not remember that you saved her and the entire Valley from the Woods corruption! Not to mention you have saved my life more than once.”

“But I put you through so much–”

“Nieszka, I know this sounds absurd, but I am all the better for it. I suppose it takes dangling on that thread between life and death to learn what truly matters in life and to see what a complete fool you have been. No matter how many years you have lived, it is only the moments that matter in the end,” he said wisely, as we rode back home up the mountain and into the morning sunlight.


	9. Epilogue – Two Months Later (Agnieszka)

I only felt it just this morning, but I knew I had to tell Sarkan. I had been avoiding him like the plague all day long, for fear that if he got too close he might feel it too and I didn’t want him to find out that way. I had to tell him but I would have to muster up the courage first. 

It was evening now, the sun nearly finished setting as I walked up the Towers’ winding stairs with a tray of food I was bringing up to the library. I looked out one of the narrow windows in the stairway, the first dusting of snow leaving white patches scattered all over the Valleys’ landscape, signaling a cold winters approach. I shivered from both the chill that hung in the stairway and my nerves. 

If I avoided him any longer I was afraid he might come looking for me, and I knew if he caught me off guard he would see I was hiding something. 

I was nearly on the landing and the right words still had not yet come to me. Part of me wanted to run the other way, while the other part just wanted to dive in and remove the knot in my belly as quickly as possible. The memory of avoiding him every time I brought up his food in those early days came flooding back to me. I can’t say that it was a fond memory but oddly I took some comfort in its familiarity because what I was facing now was completely uncharted territory to us both.

When I reached the landing I didn’t have to look to know he was in there, even though he was as quiet as a field mouse stealing a farmers crops. The radiant warmth of the libraries hearth easing my chilled body but doing nothing for my cold feet. I came in, seeing he was sitting in his favorite chair pouring over some ancient text, thoroughly cornering it with notes, next to his new favorite piece of art work. 

As a wedding present to me, he managed to get his hands on a rather unsettling childhood drawing of mine – my mother insists she had nothing to do with it – in which Kasia and I were holding up a sword with the severed head of a dragon on the end. He had it framed and wrote a message on it, _‘You have slayed me in all the best ways. – Sarkan’_. He even suggested hanging it in our bedroom but gently I told him how wonderful it would look in the library. It’s not that I don’t understand the great meaning behind it, it’s actually quite funny too, but I prefer not to always be reminded of the downright murderous intentions I had towards my husband as a child. 

His face was turned away from me but his telling shoulders stiffed up before I even put the food on the table. 

“Where have you been?” his voice dripping in its natural state of irritation. When his eyes slid over me his expression softened. He stood up just noticing the food. I could tell his appetite had already distracted him from hearing the answer to his own question but when we both sat down and began to eat, his question did not so easily escape him.

“The way you jumped out of bed this morning I thought you were playing some sort of strange game with me,” he said between bites. “I suppose I bore you so much you find it entertaining to hide from me all day.” He was being sarcastic but I knew he was expecting me to say something being I hadn’t uttered a word since I walked in. 

“Just busy writing some… thank you notes, for all those wonderful wedding gifts we received,” I lied. 

“We hardly opened any,” he sorted. “How on earth would you know what to thank them for?”

“Well I just wrote in general terms, you know, like, _‘Thank you for sharing our special day with us, your gift was very thoughtful.’_ ”

“So the person who bought us say, a cheap pot holder will get the same thank you note as someone who bought us an entire set of cookware.” His nose scrunched up and his eyes narrowed, I could tell some rude comment was lurking just behind his teeth but he managed to swallow it down with the rest of his food. 

“I don’t think any of those boxes are big enough to fit an entire set of cookware in them,” I said, as I eyed the neat little pile of unopened wedding gifts that had gathered in the corner of the room. 

“Not the point,” he growled through gritted teeth.

All the wedding talk got me reminiscing on how beautiful it was. We had nearly no time for planning but somehow everything fell perfectly into place. We had only sent out invitations to my family and friends, but word traveled fast in the week before the wedding and people as far as Zatochek had shown up, not to mention nearly all of Dverkik. The ceremony was held in the same field as the choosing and though we set out as many extra chairs as possible, the hill tops surrounding the field were thoroughly coated with onlookers. Sarkan thinks so many people showed up because of my popularity for cleansing the Wood, but I think it had more to do with their curiosity to see their reclusive, unearthly Dragon do something as human and ordinary as marrying. 

Most of Dverkik already knew I was more than just the Dragon’s apprentice. After all, he had been seen numerous times at my family home for holidays and I’m sure we have been caught more than once holding hands. So for my home town the wedding was long overdue, but for the rest of the Valley the nature of our relationship was no more than gossip and rumors so the wedding came as more of a surprise or at least a confirmed suspicion. 

The day itself was beautiful too, bright and sunny and pleasantly warm for the first of October. It was as if the whole Valley was bathed in the Summoning light, no malice or gloom could hide anywhere in its dark corners, for there was no room and there were no corners dark enough. 

I smiled at the memory of that walk down the makeshift aisle of silk and rose petals, holding on to the strong, unwavering support of my father. The bouquets of roses so abundant, from afar one would be sure a beautiful flower garden had dropped down from the sky overnight. 

Of course, with the short time we had for planning, some of the roses had to be illusions, which was fitting for me and Sarkan. Somehow I found the fleeting nature of the illusion roses made them all the more special. Although I’m sure when our guests took some of them home only to find their souvenir had disappeared the next day, they must have almost thought our wedding had been no more than a picturesque dream. 

But even more magnificent than any rose or decoration was the dapper groom shining at the end of the long aisle. His rare, handsome smile only emerging once and only emerging for me as he received me from my father, both men unable to hide the damp shine in their eyes. 

After that terrible night in the Bones shack, something in Sarkan changed. A change barely detectible from the outside but in him I’m sure the change was great. He just seemed more willing, sometimes even wanting to be around my family, the people of the Valley too. My mouth nearly fell open when I found him on my mother’s porch in deep conversation with my youngest brother. My youngest brother of all people! A slightly more open and approachable Sarkan had emerged from that burning shack, although I do stress the word slightly. 

Of course he will always be his old, prickly, reclusive self, ultimately preferring his books and solitude and sarcastic, borderline rude remarks to an abundance of human interaction. But that was just him and I wouldn’t want him to change. Nevertheless, he was putting down roots and he was finally one of us.

I think I remember our wedding with such fondness, not just because of the ceremony itself, but because of the wonderful news I received the day before the wedding. I was at my parents’ house standing atop a stool as my mother was altering my wedding dress, which was her old wedding dress – we did not have time to make a new one but I loved it all the more because it was my mother’s – when we heard a sharp knock on the door. 

Opening it, I was surprised to see the Willow and Kasia on our doorstep. I crashed into Kasia’s arms practically sobbing, I hadn’t seen her in almost a year and was considering putting off the wedding if she could not attend. I had written her before I even left Peace – Dragon’s Pass, knowing full well it would be a miracle if a royal guard could take leave on such short notice. I kept worrying, and Sarkan kept insisting that we continue with the wedding as planned, ensuring me in his impatient way, that Kasia was sure to attend. At first, I just thought he was brushing me off, giving me false hope she was coming to shut me up because I was probably getting on his nerves. But when she arrived on my doorstep, I knew he must have pulled some strings to get her there. 

When the Willow entered I wasn’t sure if I was glad or sad for her arrival but I was terribly nervous. I knew after she examined my mother I would either have the happiest wedding I could have asked for or a dark cloud would hang over the day and many days to come. I almost didn’t want to know the condition of my mother’s health, if the news were bad I would have been happier being blissfully ignorant to it. That same fear of the unknown griping my heart, just as it gripped me in the Bones shack when I found Sarkan, afraid to check for his breath. 

But happily, the news of my mothers’ health was good news. The Willow informed us that she could find no disease magical, bodily or otherwise. I was so happy I could have cried, bear hugging Kasia and my father. I even hugged the Willow much to her chagrin. The only explanation she had for my mother’s fainting spell was that it was a rather common condition for mothers of magical children to experience sudden bouts of weakness when their child bearing years end. My magic left some small imprint on her but at a certain age this magical imprint fades and the body can react poorly. As Sarkan put it, we all came to the conclusion that the village doctor was in fact a _‘pompous fool’_. 

When I woke from my wedding reminisces, I found myself staring off into space with a goofy smile on my face, which quickly turned into a frown when I realized I should have been finding the right words to explain my news to Sarkan and not daydreaming!

When I looked his way I caught him staring at me, not harshly but as if he were reading his favorite book. Before my eyes had a chance to meet his, he immediately looked back down at his empty dinner plate, a slight pink touching his cheeks as he went to spell the plates and silverware clean. Even now that we’re married he still gets shy when I catch him staring!

“Well you seem uncharacteristically deep in thought this evening,” he commented as he stacked the plates. 

I froze for a second wanting to be ready to explain things to him but I wasn’t, the words catching in my throat like a thick syrup. I cleared my syrupy throat and told him I was just reminiscing over our wedding. A slight smirk passed over his face. I could see he was doing some reminiscing of his own, although probably more about the wedding night than the day but of course he would never admit to that, prickly and prude to his core. 

If only we had truly discussed this… _topic_ before, at least if we had, I could have some gage of what his reaction might be. I thought, and thought, and agonized, and thought some more for several minutes, trying to think of some subtle way to ease into such a conversation but I was blank. Somehow I had the feeling this just wasn’t quite the particular moment to say it. 

Slowly, I let the blank, idle feeling in. Maybe I needed a moment to stop thinking, maybe the right words would come easily after a short rest. I folded my arms on the table, nesting my head in them, feeling the cool marble surface touch the delicate underside of my arms. I noticed Sarkan had went back to his reading and noting. I watched him for a while, furrowing his brow and rubbing his chin as he would often do when absorbed in a task. In the glow of the library’s fire light he became the whole Valley, from the tallest hill to the smallest rock, my home contained in one man. The familiar and peaceful sight of him making my eyes began to grow heavy. My home sliding in and out of sight as I fought my too heavy lids. 

When I lost the fight I settled into a light sleep, a comforting dream beginning to envelop me, more feeling than image. I was wrapped in the softest, most comfortable blanket one could ever imagine. Its gentle warmth completely surrounding me, as I lie atop a supple feather bed. Suddenly I felt as light as the feathers in the bed, as if I could easily float away. My body growing lighter as my sleep wanted to grow heavier. In fact, I did begin to float. My body lifted higher and higher up until it came to rest against something even more comfortable than the feather bed. The radiant heat of it penetrating one side of my loose dress as I nestled my cheek against its velvety surface. A familiar woodsy, bonfire scent mingled with the scent of books and fresh parchment filled my nose. 

Abruptly I realized just what I was resting against. “SARKAN,” I squealed, as I thrashed away from him like a fish flung too far from the river. He let out a yelp as he went tumbling to the ground, his knees striking the floor with a sharp thud. Somehow, through my wild thrashing he had managed to keep his grip on me, safely rolling me to the floor of the library’s entryway. 

“OUCH! What has gotten you so jumpy, you wild beast?” His arms still tangled up in my legs. I really hadn’t meant to pull away from him that hard but I was afraid he might notice the subtle change in my magic being so close. 

We both remained panting on the floor for moment. He couldn’t help stroking my leg with his fingertips before he pulled himself up with a slight wince. He extended his hand to me and pulled me up.

“You had to have known it was me, I made sure of it,” a hurt look in his eye.

I apologized to him in an attempt to wipe the hurt from his face. “I must have had a nightmare or something,” I lied again. All this lying was making me uneasy.

“Well, next time I find you passed out and drooling all over a table we often eat from, I’ll be sure to leave you be,” he said with a huff and a scowl as he turned around and walked back into the library. 

“I do not drool!” I said following after him, checking my mouth and chin for any telling dampness. 

He noticed my checking. A smirk drew across his face and he pulled my hand away. “I was only teasing you silly creature, you sleep beautifully. Too beautifully,” he added with a sigh. “Now go get some rest, I’ll be up in a moment.”

I promised myself I wasn’t going to leave the room without telling him. I was going to tell him. I just needed a little more time. “You know, I was thinking we really should open all those wedding presents. It is awfully rude of us not to,” trying to buy some more of it.

“Now?” he groaned. 

I motioned him to the chair closest to the pile of gifts. He sat down heavily with a displeased grunt, while I pulled up the chair across from him. 

Time seemed to roll on too quickly as we tore through gift after gift. A half dozen cheap pot holders, two identical flower vases, some pots and pans and new bed linens later, the pile was gone. Sarkan was complaining about some gift Jerzy had sent us. It was supposed to be a coat rack but it was taken apart so as to fit the small box it was placed in. He was nice enough to put in some simple instructions, telling how to put the rack back together again. I actually thought it was a smart idea. 

“Imagine if you did this with an even larger piece of furniture, it would be simple to fit in a small room and easy to transport upstairs or anywhere for that matter.”

“Agnieszka, the man sent us a box of wood. Nobody would bother putting together their own furniture. It’s an absurd idea if I’ve heard one.” 

“I don’t care, I’m still going to write him a thank you note and tell him what a smart idea it was. I’ll even be so bold as to suggest it a smart business idea.”

“That man is close enough to financial ruin already, he doesn’t need you to put silly ideas into his head. When he goes broke trying to sell broken up pieces of shoddy furniture in little boxes, I’ll have the decency not to admonish you for it.” He paused for a moment deep in thought, brows knit together. “I thought you said you already wrote all the thank you notes?”

My eyes went wide, at a loss for words I looked down and luckily found one last gift that had fallen away from the pile. I scooped up my savior in a hurry.

“Oh look, one last gift to open.”

It was a small bundle wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a neat white bow. It was from my mother, specifically labeled for Sarkan. I stretched forward to hand it to him.

“Oh goody, one just for me.”

He untied the bow and began reading the letter that was folded up with the package. He took in a sharp breath and an unreadable expression crossed his face. He got up slowly and walked over to the window by the fireplace. I could tell some deep emotion was stirred in him. What could my mother have said to him to trigger such a reaction? I picked up the letter he left behind in the chair, it read,

_Dear Sarkan,_  
Most mother’s think they have lost a daughter when she gets married, but I gained son. Yes, it may be unconventional but I believe even wise old wizards could use a mother in their life and I would like to be there for you. Whatever the hour, my door and my heart will always be open to you. Please do not hesitate to visit as often as you like, whether you need advice or just someone to talk to I’ll be waiting my son. Inside is a gift that has been my tradition to give to each of my children during the winter months and now I would like you to have one as well.  
Love, Mom. 

I picked up my mother’s gift and went to Sarkan by the window. His back was turned to me as he looked out, so I wrapped my arms around his waist and embraced him from behind. He let out deep breath, placing his hands over mine. We stood there for some time. 

“I’m assuming no one has ever referred to you as their son?” still holding him.

“No – nobody ever has,” he validated, his voice rough and shaky. 

I held him tighter, but he tensed up. I forgot I was trying to keep my distance. I quickly backed off of him, hoping he hadn’t enough of a chance to truly know what he had felt. 

“Are you alright?” I asked, curious.

“Yes, my magic just felt… strange for a moment. You and your family tend to stir strange feelings in me I suppose.”

Before he had a chance to think about it too much, I smashed my mother’s knitted winter hat on top of his head. My mother always made me and my brothers a new one with our names stitched on it every couple of years. The one she gave Sarkan was dark green with the word Dragon in red bold lettering on one side and a very realistic looking image of a dragon on the other. I pulled him over to the mirror. 

“This may be the most heartfelt gift I have ever received, but does your mother actually expect me to wear this silly thing?” raising an eyebrow. 

“You will wear it to every mid-winter feast we spend at my – _our_ families home.”

“Of course I will.” Rolling his eyes.

“Nieszka,” he said playfully plopping the hat on my head, “you have given me so much, I… I just don’t know what to say anymore.”

He was standing impossibly close to me. I felt his fingertips ever so gently caressing my hands, a subtle question. The weight and heat of his stare letting me know just what question he was asking. 

I knew if I let him any closer he would feel the change, but I didn’t want to distract him or push him away anymore. I knew it was time to tell him. It had been a waste of time trying to think of the perfect words or a gentle way of saying it. I knew deep down that being subtle or gentle was not my way, and I had to do this my way. If he didn’t like what I had to say or the way I said it, he would just have to deal with it! 

“I’M PREGNANT,” I blurted out, before he could lean in any closer to me.

“YOU’RE WHAT! HOW?” his facial expression changing so quickly I almost laughed. Did he really just ask, _how_? Of all things he could have said. How! 

He stood with his mouth agape as his face turned three shades paler. He swayed back on his heels slightly so I grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him, thinking he surely might faint. Then I eased him into the closest chair. He stared up at me with the most bewildered look on his face, like he really did need me to explain _how_. He sat there speechless for several minutes. I wanted so badly for him to be as happy as I was but I could see he was in some sort of shock. When finally his brain began functioning again, be it a bit more slowly than usual, I watched him struggle to think as he squinted his eyes and scratched his forehead.

“So you’re going to be a…a,” 

I nodded my head before he could say the word, ‘mother’.

“And I’m going to be a… I’m a…” he swallowed hard.

“A father,” I finished, “Yes that is how it typically works.” 

Something like a look of excitement crossed his face when he jumped out of his chair, falling to his knees to feel my belly. His magic all focused in that one area, giving me a warm tingly sensation. He even laid his ear against my belly as if he were expecting our unborn infant to start a conversation with him. Then he put his hands on me again, this time closing his eyes like he was trying to concentrate hard on some difficult task. He was on the floor like this for another several minutes and I was starting to get impatient. 

“Please just tell me you’re not mad, I know we never really discussed this, but I… just tell me you think this is good news.”

“Of course it’s good news, you daft girl,” the typical sarcastic irritation back in his voice. “She’s beautiful,” he added softly.

“SHE!” Now it was my turn to be shocked. “ _She_?” I questioned again taking a step back, drawing him out of his preoccupation with my belly. He hadn’t looked up once since he’d been down there. He finally stood up to face me.

“Well, you have to admit, the child has a rather feminine quality.” All I could do was stare at him in amazement. 

“What? You must have known all day – I’m guessing by your odd behavior – and you hadn’t felt it was a girl?” He waved me off. “I swear Agnieszka you may be a magical prodigy but you can be completely dense sometimes when it comes to the simple nuances of basic magic.” 

We stared at each other for a moment. I think just about every human emotion passed between are faces, until Sarkan walked away from me, put his hands over his face and started laughing like a maniac. 

When his strange fit of laughter was over with, he sunk down to the floor in the corner of the room, leaning against a bookshelf, his head tipped back. Searching. I could tell he was incredibly happy but also incredibly nervous and unsure of himself. I knew exactly how he felt because I was at this very stage of my surprise, laughing myself hysterical down in the kitchen only a few hours ago, still overjoyed but the weight of the huge responsibility of raising a child just dawning on me.

I walked over to him and knelt down to hold his hand. 

“We can do this, I know we can,” I said confidently. 

He looked up at me with a sly smile then pulled me down on top of him and stared at me with such deep intensity I was blushing. 

“Do you ever cease to be the most wonderfully, amazing thing to crash into my life?” 

Before I knew it he was kissing me and not in his usual methodical, seductive way, but sloppily and slightly frantic. I think he was still quite hysterical and just didn’t know what he was doing. At one point he missed my lips entirely and was kissing the side of my nose for some time. When he realized his mistake, he buried his head in the curve of my neck and giggled. Giggled! In the over three years I’ve known him, I don’t think I have ever heard such a sound come from him.

After his fit of giggles and laughter were over with, I felt his hands back on my belly. I felt his smile against my neck. 

“I love her so much already,” he said with surprise, still buried in my messy hair.

“Me too. I suppose that’s all she really needs, well it’s the most important thing anyhow,” stroking the back of his head and ruffling his orderly hair. 

“Ugh,” he groaned, after a few more moments and kisses. He made a motion for me to get off him. 

“What’s the matter?” I said giving him a hand up off the floor. 

“This Tower,” he said, outstretching his arms. “It’s certainly not very child friendly. The staircase alone is treacherous at best, not to mention I have an entire lab filled with chemicals and potions that must be stored away from her reach and locked up properly. And where is she to sleep? We must start setting up a nursery for her right away!”

“Sarkan calm down, she is not due for another eight months and she certainly will not be walking for at least another eight after that.” 

He raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s barely enough time! This whole Tower must be spelled to ensure her upmost safety and comfort. These are complicated workings and you’re going to have to help me now before you become fat and immobile.” He always has a charming way of putting things. 

“What kind of workings?”

He looked at me, irritated. “Don’t be so thick. We live in a stone tower littered with hard surfaces and sharp edges, you know how clumsy a small child can be.”

“Are you suggesting we turn every surface inside the Tower into a soft cushion?” 

“Of course,” he said, completely serious. “Our child will not know the meaning of the word bruise or bump when I get through with this place.” I wasn’t sure if this was a common thing for all wizards to do or if it was Sarkan just being neurotic, but I’m pretty sure it was the later. 

“Well is that all.” I questioned.

“Of course that’s not all!” looking even more irritated with me. “Children have a tendency to wander about so we must devise a spell that can alert us to her every move. Not to mention spells that will keep us informed of all her needs; feeding, changing, activity. I assure you, there is quite a lot to do. How on earth do non-magical people take care of children?” He asked more to himself than to me. 

Suddenly, a worried expression crossed his face, his eyes went wide and his face grew pale. “Now what’s the matter?” I asked, my turn to be irritated with him.

“If she turns out to be anything like you, she’ll be so…so,” I narrowed my eyes at him in warning. “Well you have to admit given your tendency for disaster, she may be a bit of a handful,” throwing up his hands. “But,” he said after a long knowing pause, “she’ll also be impossibly amazing,” with a sigh and a loving smirk in my direction. 

As Sarkan pulled me upstairs to get my opinion on the best place for the nursery, my heart swelled with joy. I was so worried he wouldn’t want her, so worried he would distance himself from her, his old coldness creeping back in. But the more I came to know him, the more I understood that he wasn’t cold at all, deep down he was just the opposite. He was the warm heat that permeated through his skin. He cared so deeply, it scared him away. Coldness had been his protection. Rudeness and sarcasm his trusty shield. 

I was so happy to know he loved her like I loved her, like my family would love her, she would be so loved. Maybe he loved her too much, judging by his current overbearing and obsessive behavior. 

_Poor girl_ , I thought, seeing her before my eyes as she got older with my wild, unruly hair and Sarkan’s beautiful, bottomless eyes, _you will never have any privacy with your doting Dragon forever at your heels_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you had just as much fun reading this as I did writing it! I’m literally sad it’s finished, because now I have nothing to do with my evenings! The idea came about noticing the underlying issue Agnieszka seems to have at the prospect of living so long. She fears outliving her family and I believe the book even alludes to her wishing she could give some of her years to her loved ones. It’s also an issue for Sarkan and the other wizards given as the reason for their coldness towards other people. Also, I really wanted to see Sarkan or Agnieszka straight up duel another wizard because magical duels = awesomeness. So that is where this fan-fic took root. Pun intended. It was originally written, ending with Sarkan nearly killing Agnieszka, then draining his magic out, he proceeds to strangle the Bone to death because he has no more energy for magic. But alas, my 18,000 word little monster of a fan-fic grew into an almost 30,000 word beast when I got the funny idea of Sarkan trying to do magic Agnieszka’s way. Sarkan getting frustrated is always a laugh out loud moment for me. I have never written anything nearly this long, so I had no idea just how time consuming it was just to proof read everything. Phew! And for all the grammar Nazi’s out there, I am not a writer or an English major, so forgive me for any remaining offences. I also wrote most of it in Sarkan’s POV because he just comes easier for me to write for, I guess because Novik is such a good writer and to try to write Agnieszka exactly like her Agnieszka can be a bit intimidating. But kudos to Ms. Novik for writing such a great book, one of my all-time favorites. Much love! I suppose I’ve rambled enough, but as always comments are welcome and thanks for reading! :)


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